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A Popular Schoolgirl 




D 46 

A TALL FIGURE, CLOTHED IN SOME WHITE GARMENT, 
WAS GLIDING TOWARDS THEM 



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D 46 


UNDER THE LANTERNS 


Chapter XX 


A 

Popular Schoolgirl 


BY 

ANGELA BRAZIL 

Illustrated by Balliol Salmon 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyrighty 1920, by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 


All Rights Reserved 


SEP -9 1921 


FWSt published in the United States 
of America, 1921 


0)CI,A624232 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER FAOE 

I. The End of the Holidays ... i 

11 . Opening Day 15 

III. Wynch-on-the-Wold , .... 28 

IV. Intruder Bess ....... 42 

V. The Fifth-form Fete 54 

VI. The School Parliament .... 68 

VII. Hockey 82 

VIII. An Unpleasant Experience . . .95 

IX. A Hostel Frolic iii 

X. The Whispering Stones .... 127 

XI. On Strike 142 

XII. The Rainbow League 158 

XIII. Quenrede Comes Out 172 

XIV. The Peep-hole 186 

XV. Brotherly Breezes ..... 198 

XVI. An Easter Pilgrimage . . . .214 

XVII. The Rivals 225 

XVIII. Bess at Home 243 

XIX. The Nun’s Walk 253 

XX. Under the Lanterns 268 

XXL The Abbey Recital 280 


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Illustrations 


Under the Lanterns Frontispiece 

PAOB 

“Let*s call ourselves the Foursome League” ... 26 

A Friend in Need 104 

‘‘You look nice — ^you do, really, with your hair down” 140 

“You may think you know everything, Bess Hasel- 
ford, but you don’t know this!” 228 

A Tall Figure, clothed in some White Garment, was 
gliding towards them 266 


A 

POPULAR SCHOOLGIRL 


CHAPTER I 

The End of the Holidays 

“Ingred! Ingred, old girl! I say, Ingred! 
Wherever have you taken yourself off to?” 
shouted a boyish voice, as its owner, jumping an 
obstructing gooseberry bush, tore around the cor- 
ner of the house from the kitchen garden on to the 
strip of rough lawn that faced the windows. 
“ Hullo ! Cuckoo ! Coo-ee I /w-gred ! ” 

“ I’m here all the time, so you needn’t bawl ! ” 
came in resigned tones from under the shade of a 
large fuchsia. “ You’re enough to wake the 
dead. Chumps ! What is it you want now ! It’s 
too hot to go a walk till after tea. I’m trying to 
get ten minutes peace and quiet ! ” 

Hereward, otherwise “ Chumps,” put his feet 
together in the second position, flung out his arms 
in what was intended to be a graceful attitude, 
and made a mock bow worthy of the cinema stage. 

I 


2 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Have them by all means, Madam ! ” he re- 
plied in mincing accents. “ Your humble servant 
has no wish to disturb your ladyship’s elegant re- 
pose. He offers a thousand apologies for his un- 
ceremonious entrance into your august presence, 
and implores you to condescend — ^ — Ow! 
Stop it, you brute! ” 

Hereward’s burst of eloquence was brought to 
an abrupt end by the violent onslaught of a fox- 
terrier puppy which flung itself upon him and be- 
gan to worry his ankles with delighted yelps of 
appreciation. 

“ Stop it ! Keep off, I tell you I I won’t be 
chewed to ribbons ! ” he protested, dodging the 
attacks of the playful but all too sharp teeth, and 
catching the little dog by the piece of tarred rope 
that formed its collar. “ Here, you’ll get 
throttled in a minute if you don’t mend your man- 
ners.” 

‘‘Give him to his auntie, bless his heart!” 
laughed Ingred, extending welcoming arms to the 
fat specimen of puppyhood, and rolling him about 
on her knee. “ Oh, he did make you dance 1 
You looked so funny! There, precious! Don’t 
chump auntie’s fingers. Go bye-byes now. Snug- 
gle down on auntie’s dress, and ” 

“If you’ve quite finished talking idiotic non- 
sense to that little beast,” interrupted Hereward 
sarcastically, “ you’ll perhaps kindly oblige me by 


The End of the Holidays 3 

mentioning whether you’re coming or not!” 

“Not coming anywhere — too hot!” grunted 
Ingred, resettling her cushion under the fuchsia 
bush. 

“ Right you are ! Please yourself and you’ll 
please me! Though I should have thought the 

run to Chatcombe ” 

Ingred sprang to her feet, dropping the puppy 
unceremoniously. 

“ You don’t mean to say Egbert’s finished 
mending the motor bike? You abominable boy! 
Why couldn’t you tell me so before ? ” 

“ You never gave me the chance — just said 
off-hand you wouldn’t go anywhere. Yes, the 
engine’s running like a daisy, and the side-car’s on, 
and Egbert’s fussing to be off. If you really 

change your mind and want to go ” 

But by this time Ingred was round the corner 
of the house ; so, shaking a philosophic head at the 
ways of girls in general, her brother gathered a 
gooseberry or two en route, and followed her in 
the direction of the stable-yard. 

The Saxons were spending their summer holi- 
days at a farm near the sea-side, and for the first 
time in four long years the whole family was re- 
united. Mr. Saxon, Egbert, and Athelstane had 
only just been demobilized, and had hardly yet 
settled down to civilian life. They had joined 
the rest of the party at Lynstones before return- 


4 A Popular Schoolgirl 

ing to their native town of Grovebury. The six 
wedts by the sea seemed a kind of pasis between 
the anxious period of the war that was past and 
gone, and the new epoch that stretched ahead In 
the future. To Ingred they were halcyon days. 
To have her father and brothers safely back, and 
for the family to be together in the midst of such 
beautiful scenery, was sufficient for utter enjoy- 
ment. She did not wish her mind to venture out- 
side the charmed circle of the holidays. Beyond, 
when she thought about it all, lay a nebulous pros- 
pect, in the center of which school loomed large. 

On this particular hot August afternoon, Ingred 
welcomed an excursion in the side-car. She had 
not felt inclined to walk down the white path un- 
der the blazing sun to the glaring beach, but it 
was another matter to spin along the high road 
till, as the fairy tales put it, her hair whistled in 
the wind. Egbert was anxious to set off, so Here- 
ward took his place on the luggage-carrier, and, 
after some back-firing, the three started forth. 
It was a glorious run over moorland country, with 
glimpses of the sea on the one hand, and craggy 
tors on the other, and round them billowy masses 
of heather, broken here and there by runnels of 
peat-stained water. If Egbert exceeded the 
speed-limit, he certainly had the excuse of a clear 
road before him; there were no hedges to hide 
advancing cars, neither was there any possibility 


The End of the Holidays 5 

of whisking round a corner to find a hay-cart 
blocking the way. In the course of an hour they 
had covered a considerable number of miles, and 
found themselves whirling down the tremendous 
hill that led to the seaside town of Chatcombe. 

Arrived in the main street they left the motor- 
cycle at a garage, and strolled on to the prome- 
nade, joining the crowd of holiday-makers who 
were sauntering along in the heat, or sitting on the 
benches watching the children digging in the sand 
below. Much to Ingred’s astonishment she was 
suddenly hailed by her name, and, turning, found 
herself greeted with enthusiasm by a school-fel- 
low. 

“ Ingred ! What a surprise ! ” 

“ Avis I Who’d have thought of seeing you? ” 
Are you staying here? ” 

“No, only over for the afternoon.” 

“ We’ve rooms at Beach View over there. 
Come along and have some tea with us, and your 
brothers too. Yes, indeed you must! Mother 
will be delighted to see you all. I shan’t let you 
say no ! ” 

Borne away by her hospitable friend, Ingred 
presently found herself sitting on a seat in the 
front garden of a tall boarding-house facing the 
sea, and while Egbert and Hereward discussed 
motor-cycling with Avis’s father, the two girls en- 
joyed a confidential chat together. 


6 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Only a few days now,” sighed Avis, “ then 
we’ve got to leave all this and go home. How 
long are you staying at Lynstones, Ingred?” 

“ A fortnight more, but don’t talk of going 
home. I want the holidays to last forever ! ” 

“ So do I, but they won’t. School begins on 
the twenty-first of September. It will be rather 
sport to go to the new buildings at last, won’t it? 
By the by, now the war’s over, and we’ve all got 
our own again, I suppose you’re going back to 
Rotherwood, aren’t you? ” 

“ I suppose so, when it’s ready.” 

“ But surely the Red Cross cleared out ages 
ago, and the whole place has been done up? I 
saw the paperhangers there in June.” 

” Oh, yes ! ” Ingred’s voice was a little strained. 

“ You’ll be so glad to be living there again,” 
continued Avis. “ I always envied you that lovely 
house. You must have hated lending it as a hos- 
pital. I expect when you’re back you’ll be giving 
all sorts of delightful parties, won’t you? At 
least that’s what the girls at school were saying.” 

“ It’s rather early to make plans,” temporized 
Ingred. 

“ Oh, of course ! But Jess and Francie said 
you’d a gorgeous floor for dancing. I do think 
a fancy-dress dance is about the best fun on earth. 
The next time I get an invitation, I’m going as a 
Quaker maiden, in a gray dress and the duckiest 


The End of the Holidays 7 

little white cap. Don’t you think it would suit 
me ? With your dark hair you ought to be some- 
thing Eastern. I can just Imagine you acting 
hostess in a shimmery sort of white-and-gold cos- 
tume. Do promise to wear white-and-gold!” 

“ All right,” laughed Ingred. 

“ It’s so delightful that the war’s over, and 
we can begin to have parties again, like we used 
to do. Beatrice Jackson told me she should never 
forget that Carnival dance she went to at Rother- 
wood five years ago, and all the lanterns and fairy 
lamps. Some of the other girls talk about it yet. 
Hullo, that’s the gong I Come indoors, and we’ll 
have tea.” 

Ingred was very quiet as she went back in the 
sidecar that evening, though Hereward, sitting 
on the luggage-carrier, was in high spirits, and 
fired off jokes at her the whole time. The fact 
was she was thinking deeply. Certain problems, 
which she had hitherto cast carelessly away, now 
obtruded themselves so definitely that they must 
at last be faced. The process, albeit necessary, 
was not altogether a pleasant one. 

To understand Ingred’s perplexities we must 
give a brief account of the fortunes of her family 
up to the time this story begins. Mr. Saxon was 
an architect, who had made a good connection in 
the town of Grovebury. Here he had designed 
and built for himself a very beautiful house, and 


8 A Popular Schoolgirl 

had liberally entertained his own and his chil- 
dren’s friends. When war broke out, he had been 
amongst the first to volunteer for his country’s 
service, and, as a further act of patriotism, he 
and his wife had decided to offer the use of 
“ Rotherwood ” for a Red Cross Hospital. The 
three boys were then at school, Egbert and Athel- 
stane at Winchester, and Hereward at a prepara- 
tory school; so, storing the furniture, Mrs. Saxon 
moved into rooms with Quenrede and Ingred, 
who were attending the girls’ college in Grove- 
bury as day boarders. For the whole period of 
the war this arrangement had continued ; Rother- 
wood was given over to the wounded soldiers, and 
Mrs. Saxon herself worked as one of their most 
devoted nurses. 

In course of time Egbert and Athelstane had 
also joined the army, and with three of her men 
kind at the front, their mother had been more than 
ever glad to fill up at the hospital the hours when 
her girls were absent from her at school. Then 
came the Armistice, and the blessed knowledge 
that, though not yet home again, the dear ones 
were no longer in danger. By April the Red 
Cross had finished its work in Grovebury ; the re- 
maining patients regretfully departed, the wards 
were dismantled of their beds, and Rotherwood 
was handed back to its rightful owners. 

Naturally it needed much renovation and decor- 


9 


The End of the Holidays 

ating before it was again fit for a private resi- 
dence, and paperers and painters had been busy 
there for many weeks. They had only just re- 
moved the ladders by the middle of July. 

It was nearly August before Mr. Saxon, Eg- 
bert, and Athelstane were finally demobilized, and 
they had gone straight to Lynstones to join the 
rest of the family at the farmhouse rooms. 
What was to happen after the delirious joy 
of the holiday was over, Ingred did not know. 
She had several times mentioned to her mother 
the prospect of their return to Rotherwood, but 
Mrs. Saxon had always evaded the subject, say- 
ing: “Wait till Daddy comes back!” and the 
welcoming of their three heroes had seemed a 
matter of such paramount importance that in com- 
parison with it even the question of their beloved 
Rotherwood might stand aside. 

The Saxons were a particularly united family, 
tremendously proud of one another, and inter- 
ested in each other’s doings. Their name be- 
spoke their old English origin, which (except in 
the^case of Ingred) was further vouched for by 
their blue eyes, fair skins, and flaxen hair. Eg- 
bert and Athelstane were strapping young fellows 
of six feet, and thirteen-year-old Hereward was 
taller already than Ingred. Quenrede, immensely 
proud of her quaint Saxon name, and not at all 
pleased that the family generally shortened it to 


10 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

Queenie, had just left school, and had turned up 
her long fair pigtail, put on a grown-up and rather 
condescending manner, powdered the tip of her 
classic little nose, and was extremely particular 
about the cut of her skirts and the fit of her suMe 
shoes. It was a grievance to Quenrede that, as 
she expressed it, she had “ missed the war.” She 
had longed to go out to France and drive an am- 
bulance, or to whirl over English roads on a mo- 
tor-cycle, buying up hay for the Government, or 
to assist in training horses, or to help in some other 
patriotic job of an equally interesting and exciting 
character. 

“ It’s too bad that just when I’m old enough 
all the jolly things are closed to women ! ” she 
groused. “ If Mother had only let me leave 
school a year ago, I’d at least have had three 
months’ fun. Life’s going to be very slow now. 
There’s nothing sporty to do at all ! ” 

Ingred, the youngest but one, and fifteen on 
her last birthday, was the only dark member of 
the fair Saxon family. At present she was not 
nearly so good-looking as pretty Quenrede; her 
mouth was a trifle heavy and her cheeks lacked 
color; but her eyes had depths that were not seen 
in her sister’s, and her thick brown hair fell far 
below her waist. She would gladly have ex- 
changed it for the lint-white locks of Hereward. 

” Queenie was always chosen for a fairy at 


The End of the Holidays n 

school plays,” she grumbled, “ and they never 
would have me, though her dresses would have 
come in for me so beautifully. I don’t see why 
some fairies shouldn’t have dark hair! And it 
was just as bad when we acted The Merchant of 
Venice. Miss Carter gave ‘ Portia ’ to Francie 
Hall, and made me take ‘ Jessica,’ and Francie 
was a perfect stick, and spoilt the whole thing! 
Next time, I declare I’ll bargain to wear a golden 
wig, and see what happens.” 

Ingred had been educated at Grovebury Col- 
lege since the morning when, a fat little person 
of five, she had taken her place in the Kinder- 
garten. She and Quenrede had always been 
favorites in the school. In pre-war days they 
had been allowed to give delightful parties at 
Rotherwood to their form-mates, and though that 
had not been possible during the last five years, 
everybody knew that their beautiful home had 
been lent to the Red Cross, and admired their 
patriotism in thus giving it for the service of the 
nation. From Avis’s remarks that afternoon it 
was evident that the girls at the college expected 
the Saxons to return immediately to Rotherwood, 
and were looking forward to being invited to en- 
tertainments there during the coming autumn and 
winter. Ingred had contrived to parry her 
friend’s interested questions, but she felt the time 
had come when she must be prepared to give 


12 A Popular Schoolgirl 

some definite answer to those who inquired about 
their future plans. She managed to catch her 
mother alone next morning for a quiet chat. 

“ Mumsie, dear,” she began. “ I’ve been 
wanting to ask you this — are we going back to 
Rotherwood after the holidays ? ” 

Mrs. Saxon folded up her sewing, put her thim- 
ble and scissors away in her work-basket, and 
leaned her elbow on the arm of the garden seat 
as if prepared for conversation. 

“ And I’ve been wanting to talk to you about 
this, Ingred. Shall you be very disappointed 
when I tell you ‘ No ’ ? ” 

“ Oh, Muvvie ! ” Ingred’s tone was agonized. 
“ It can’t be helped, little woman 1 It can’t 
indeed ! I think you’re old enough now to under- 
stand if I explain. You know this war has hit 
a great many people very hard. There has been 
a sort of general financial see-saw; some have 
made large fortunes, but others have lost them. 
We come in the latter list. When your father 
went out to France, he had to leave his profession 
to take care of itself, and other architects have 
stepped in and gained the commissions that used 
to come to his office. It may take him a long 
while to pull his connection together again, and 
the time of waiting will be one of much anxiety 
for him. Then, most of our investments, which 
used to pay such good dividends, are worth hardly 


13 


The End of the Holidays 

anything now, and only bring us in a pittance com- 
pared with former years. Instead of being rich 
people, we shall have to be very careful indeed to 
make ends meet. To return to Rotherwood is 
utterly out of the question, and with the price of 
everything doubled and trebled, and our Income 
in the inverse ratio, it is impossible to keep up so 
big an establishment nowadays.” 

“Where are we going to live, then?” asked 
Ingred in a strangled voice. 

“ At the bungalow that Daddy built on the 
moors. Fortunately the tenant was leaving, and 
we had not let it to any one else. In present cir- 
cumstances it will suit us very well. Athelstane 
is to be entered in the medical school at Birkshaw; 
he can ride over every day on the motor-bicycle. 
We had hoped to send him to study in London, 
but that’s only one of the many plans that have 
‘ gane agley 

“ Are Hereward and I to go in to Grovebury 
every day? ” 

“ Hereward can manage it all right, but I 
shall arrange for you to be a weekly boarder at 
the new hostel. You can come home from Fri- 
day to Monday. Now, don’t cry about it, 
childie ! ” as a big tear splashed down Ingred’s 
dress. “ After all, we’ve much to be thankful 
for. If we had lost Father, or Egbert, or Athcl- 
stane out in France we might indeed grieve. So 


H A Popular Schoolgirl 

long as we have each other we’ve got the best 
thing in life, and we must all cling together as a 
family, and. help one another on. Cheer up!” 

“ It will be simply h — h — h — hateful to go 
back to school this term, and not live at R — r — 
r — rotherwood! ” sobbed Ingred. 

Her mother patted the dark head that rested 
against her knee. 

“ Poor little woman ! Remember it’s just as 
hard for all the rest of us. We’ve each got a 
burden to carry at present. Suppose we see who 
can be pluckiest over it. We’re fighting fortune 
now, instead of the Hun, and we must show her a 
brave face. Won’t you march* with the family 
regiment, and keep the colors flying? ” 

” I’ll try,” said Ingred, scrubbing her eyes with 
her pocket-handkerchief. 


CHAPTER II 

Opening Day 

The Girls’ College at Grovebury, under its able 
head-mistress, Miss Burd, had made itself quite 
a name in the neighborhood. The governors, 
realizing that it was outgrowing its old premises, 
decided to erect others, and had put up a hand- 
some building in a good situation near the Abbey. 
No sooner was the last tile laid on the roof, how- 
ever, than war broke out, and the new school was 
immediately commandeered by the Government 
as a recruiting office, and it had been kept for that 
purpose until after the Armistice, 

The girls considered it a very great grievance 
to be obliged to remain cramped so long in their 
old college. The foundation stone of the new 
building had been laid by Queen Mary herself, 
and they thought the Government might have 
fixed upon some other spot in which to conduct 
business, instead of keeping them out of their 
proper quarters. All things come to an end, how- 
ever, even the circumlocution and delays of 
Government offices, and by the beginning of the 
16 


i6 A Popular Schoolgirl 

autumn term the removal had been effected, and 
the ceremony arranged for the opening of the 
new college. Naturally it was to be a great day. 
The Members of Parliament for Grovebury, and 
the Mayor, and many other important people 
were to be present, to say nothing of parents and 
visitors. The pupils, assembled in the freshly 
color-washed dressing-rooms, greeted one an- 
other excitedly. 

“ How do you like it? ” 

“ Oh, it’s topping ! ” 

“ Beats the old place hollow ! ” 

“ There’s room to turn around here ! ” 

“ And the lockers are just Ai.” 

“Have you seen the class-rooms?’’ 

“ Not yet.’’ 

“ The gym.’s utterly perfect ! ’’ 

“ And so is the lab.’’ 

“ Shame we’ve had to wait for it so long! ” 

“ Never mind, we’ve got into it at last! ” 
Among the numbers of girls in the capacious 
dressing-rooms, Ingred also hung up her hat and 
coat, and passed on into the long corridor. Like 
the others she was excited, interested, even a little 
bewildered at the unfamiliar surroundings. It 
seemed extraordinary not to know her way about, 
and she seized joyfully upon Nora Clifford, who 
by virtue of ten minutes’ experience could act 
cicerone. 


17 


Opening Day 

“We’re to be in Va.,’’ Nora assured her. 
“ All our old set, that is, except Connie Lord and 
Gladys Roper and Meg Mason. I’ve just met 
Miss Strong, and she told me. She’s moved up 
with us, and there’s a new mistress for Vb. 
Haven’t seen her yet, but they say she’s nice, 
though I’d rather stick to Miss Strong, wouldn’t 
you ? ” 

“ I don’t know,’’ temporized Ingred, screwing 
her mouth into a button. 

“Oh, of course! I forgot! You’re not a 
‘ Strong ’ enthusiast — never were ! Now / like 
her!’’ 

“ It’s easy enough to like anybody who favors 
you. Miss Strong was always down on me some- 
how, and I’d rather have tried my luck with a 
fresh teacher. I wonder if Miss Burd would put 
me in Vb. if I asked her.” 

“ Of course she wouldn’t ! Don’t be a silly 
idiot ! I think Miss Strong’s absolutely adorable. 
Don’t you like the decorations in the corridor? 
Miss Godwin and some of the School of Art 
students did them. But just wait till you’ve seen 
the lecture-hall ! Here we are ! Now then, what 
d’you say to this? ” 

The big room into which Nora ushered her 
companion was lighted from the top, and the 
walls, distempered in buff, had been decorated 
with stencils of Egyptian designs, the bright bar- 


1 8 A Popular Schoolgirl 

baric colors of which gave a very striking effect. 
There was a platform at the far end, where were 
placed rows of chairs for the distinguished vis- 
itors, and also pots of palms and ferns and ge- 
raniums to add an air of festivity to the opening 
ceremony. The long lines of benches in the body 
of the hall were already beginning to fill with 
girls, their bright hair-ribbons looking almost like 
a further array of flowers. Mistresses here and 
there were ushering them to their places, the 
Kindergarten children to the front seats. Juniors 
to the middle, and Seniors to the rear. Ingred 
and Nora, motioned by Miss Giles to a bench 
about three-quarters down the room, took their 
seats and talked quietly with their nearest neigh- 
bors. A general buzz of conversation, con- 
stantly restrained by mistresses, kept rising and 
then falling again to subdued whispers. In a 
short time the hall was full. Miss Perry had 
opened the piano, and the choir leaders had ranged 
themselves round her. In dead silence all the 
girls, big and little, turned their eyes towards the 
platform. The door behind the row of palms 
and ferns was opening, and Miss Burd, in scho- 
lastic cap and gown, was ushering in the Mayor, 
the Mayoress, several Town Councilors and their 
wives, a few clergy, the head-master of the School 
of Art, and, to the place of honor in the middle. 
Sir James Hilton, the Member of Parliament for 


19 


Opening Day 

Grovebury, who was to conduct the ceremony of 
the afternoon. He was a pleasant, genial-look- 
ing man, and though, as he assured his audience, 
he had never before had the opportunity of ad- 
dressing a room full of girls, he seemed to be able 
to rise to the occasion, and made quite a capital 
speech. 

“ You’re lucky to have this handsome building 
in which to do your lessons,” he concluded. 
” Our environment makes a great difference to us, 
and I think it is far easier to turn out good work 
in the midst of beautiful surroundings. Grove- 
bury College has reaped a well-deserved reputa- 
tion in the past, and I trust that its hitherto ex- 
cellent standards will be maintained or even sur- 
passed in the future. As member for the town 
there’s a special word I wish to say to you. Train 
yourselves to be good women citizens. Some day, 
when you’re grown up, you will have votes, and 
in that way assist in the self-government of this 
great nation. The better educated and the more 
enlightened you are, the better fitted you will be 
for your civic responsibility. Every girl who 
does her duty at school is helping her country, be- 
cause she is making herself efficient to serve it in 
some capacity. At present England stands at a 
great crisis; if we are to keep up the traditions of 
our forefathers we want workers, not slackers, in 
every department of life. Even the smallest of 


20 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

those little girls sitting in the front row can do 
her bit. As for you elder girls, think of your- 
selves as a Cadet Corps, training for the service 
of the British Empire, and let every lesson you 
learn be not for your own advantage, but for the 
good you can do with it afterwards to the world. 
I have very great pleasure in declaring this new 
building open.” 

After Sir James had sat down, the Mayor and 
several other people made short speeches, and 
when all the clapping had finally subsided, the 
piano struck up, and the school sang an Empire 
Song and the National Anthem. Then the door 
at the back of the platform opened again for the 
exit of the visitors, who, chatting among them- 
selves, made their way to Miss Burd’s study to 
be hospitably entertained with tea and cakes. 
The whole ceremony had barely occupied an hour, 
and it was not yet four o’clock. The girls, in 
orderly files, marched from the lecture-hall, and 
betook themselves first to their new form-rooms, 
where textbooks were given out with preparation 
for the next day, and desks allotted; then, when 
the great bell rang for dismissal, to the play- 
ground and cloak-rooms, en route for home. 

Ingred, with a goodly pile of fresh literature 
under her arm, walked slowly downstairs. She 
was not in any hurry to leave the class-room, and 
lingered as long as the limits of Miss Strong’s pa- 


21 


Opening Day 

tlence lasted. She knew there was a certain or- 
deal to be faced with her form-mates, and she was 
not sure whether she wanted to put it off, or to 
get it over at once. 

“ Better let them know and have done with it,” 
she said to herself after a few moments’ consider- 
ation on the landing. “ After all, it’s my busi- 
ness, not theirs ! ” 

It was a rather airily-defiant Ingred who 
strolled into the cloak-room and put on her hat. 
Francie Hall, trying to thread her boot with a 
lace that had lost its tag, looked up, smiled, and 
made room for her on the form. 

“ Cheery-ho, Ingred ! How do you like our 
new diggings? Some removal, this, isn’t it? I 
must say the place looks nice. It’s topping to be 
here at last. By the by, I suppose you’ll be get- 
ting in Rotherwood soon? Or have you got al- 
ready? ” 

Ingred was stooping to lace her shoe, so per- 
haps the position accounted for her stifled voice. 

“ We’re not going back there.” 

“Not going back!” Francie’s tone was one 
of genuine amazement. “ Why, but you said it 
was being done up for you, and you’d be moving 
before the term started 1 ” 

“ Well, we’re not, at any rate.” 

“What a disappointment for you!” began 
Beatrice Jackson tactlessly, as several other girls 


22 


A Popular Schoolgirl 


who were standing near turned and joined the 
group. “ You always said you were just longing 
for Rotherwood.” 

“Do the Red Cross want it again?” queried 



“ Nqfmey don’t; but we’re not going to live 
there. Where are we going to live? At our 
bungalow on the moors, and I’m a weekly boarder 
at the hostel. Are there any other impertinent 
questions you’d like to ask? Don’t all speak at 
once, please ! ” 

And Ingred, having laced both shoes, got up, 
seized her pile of books, and, turning her back 
on her form-mates, stalked away without a good- 
by. She knew she had been rude and ungra- 
cious, but she felt that if she had stopped another 
moment the tears that were welling into her eyes 
would have overflowed. Ingred had many good 
points, but she was a remarkably proud girl. She 
could not bear her schoolfellows to think she had 
come down in the world. She had thrown out so 
many hints last term about the renewed glories of 
Rotherwood, that It was certainly humiliating to 
have to acknowledge that all the happy expecta- 
tions had come to nothing. On the reputation 
of Rotherwood both she and Quenrede had held 
their heads high in the school; she wondered If 
her position would be the same, now that every- 
body knew the truth. 


23 


Opening Day 

As a matter of fact, most of the girls giggled 
as she went out through the cloak-room door. 

“ My lady’s in a temper! ” exclaimed Francie. 

“ Lemons and vinegar! ” hinnied Jess. 

“ Why did she fly out like that? ” asked Bea- 
trice. 

“ Well, really, Beatrice Jackson, after all the 
stupid things you said, anybody would fly out, I 
should think,” commented Verity Richmond. 
‘‘ I’m sorry for Ingred. I’d heard the Saxons 
can’t go back to their old house. It’s hard luck 
on them after lending it all these years to the Red 
Cross.” 

“ But why aren’t they going back? ” 

‘‘ Why, silly, because they can’t keep it up, I 
suppose. If you’ve any sense, you won’t mention 
Rotherwood to Ingred again. It’s evidently a 
sore point. Don’t for goodness sake, go rubbing 
it into her.” 

“ I wasn’t going to ! ” grumbled Beatrice. 
“ Surely I can make an innocent remark without 
you beginning to preach to me like this! I call 
it cheek! ” 

Verity did not reply. She had had too many 
squabbles with Beatrice in the past to want to 
begin a fresh campaign on the first day of a new 
term. She discreetly pretended not to hear, and 
addressing Francie Hall, launched into an account 
of her doings during the holidays. 


24 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“We’re moving out to Repwortb at the Sep- 
tember quarter,” she concluded. “ And it’s too 
far for me to bicycle in to school every day, so 
I’ve started as a boarder at the hostel. I shall 
go home for week-ends, though. Nora Clifford 
and Fil Trevor are there too. They’ll be glad 
Ingred’s come. With four of us out of one form, 
things ought to be rather jinky. Hullo, here 
they are ! I say, girls, let’s go to our diggings.” 

The two girls who came strolling up arm-in- 
arm were the most absolute contrast. Nora was 
large-limbed, plump, rosy, with short-cut hair, a 
lively manner, and any amount of confidence. 
Without being exactly pretty, she gave a general 
impression of jolly, healthy girlhood, and re- 
minded one of an old-fashioned, sweet-scented 
cabbage rose that had just burst into bloom. 
Dainty little Filomena might, on the other hand, 
be described as the most delicate of tea roses. 
She was fair to a fault, a lily-white maid with the 
silkiest of flaxen tresses. Her pale-blue eyes, 
with their light lashes, and rather colorless little 
face with its straight features were of the petite 
fairy type. You felt instinctively that, like a 
Dresden china vase, she was made more for orna- 
ment than for use, and nobody — even school-mis- 
tresses — expected too much from her. Experi- 
ence had shown them that they did not get it. 

For two years, ever since her mother’s death. 


25 


Opening Day 

Fil had been a boarder at the College, and be- 
cause at first she had been such a pathetic little 
figure in her deep mourning, the girls had petted 
her, and had continued an indulgent attitude long 
after the black dress had been exchanged for 
colors. If Fil had rather got into the habit of 
posing as the mascot of the form, she certainly 
deserved some consideration, for she was a dear 
little thing, with a very sweet temper, and never 
made any of the ill-natured remarks that some of 
the other girls flung about like missiles. She was 
so manifestly unfitted to take her own part that 
somebody else invariably took it for her. 

Verity Richmond, who, with Nora, Filomena 
and Ingred, represented Va. in the hostel, was a 
brisk, up-to-date, go-ahead girl, full of fun and 
high spirits. She was a capital mimic, and had 
a turn for repartee that, quite good-naturedly, 
laid any adversary flat in the dust. If Nora and 
Fil were like rose and lily, she was decidedly the 
robin of the party. Her fair complexion seemed 
to add force to the brightness of her twinkling 
brown eyes, and her general restlessness and quick 
alert ways made one think of a bird always hop- 
ping about. Though not quite such a romp as 
Nora, she was ready for any fun that was going, 
and intended to get as much enjoyment as possible 
out of the coming term. She linked herself now 
on to Fil’s disengaged arm, taking the latter’s pile 


26 A Popular Schoolgirl 

of books with her own and began towing her two 
friends in the direction of the hostel. 

“ I’ve hardly had time even for a squint at our 
dormitory yet,” she announced. ” Mrs. B^st 
said I was late, and made me pop down my bag 
and fly; but she told me we were all four together, 
so I went off with an easy mind. I’d been worry- 
ing for fear I’d be boxed up with some kids, or 
sandwiched in among the Sixth. I told you In- 
gred was to be with us, didn’t I? Let’s go and 
hunt her out; she’ll have wiped her eyes and got 
over her jim-jams by now. We’ll have time to 
do some unpacking before tea, if they’ve carried 
up our boxes.” 

The hostel was a separate house, built at the 
opposite side of the school playground. It could 
accommodate thirty girls, and twenty-six were al- 
ready entered on Its register. After a brief peep 
Into the attractive dining-hall, and an equally 
pleasant-looking boarders’ sitting-room, the three 
girls went upstairs to a dormitory marked 2. 
They found Ingred already at work on her task 
of unpacking, putting clothes away In drawers, 
and spreading the shelf that served as a dressing- 
table with an assortment of photos, books, and 
toilet requisites. She looked rather in the dumps, 
but it was impossible for anybody to remain 
gloomy when in the presence of such lively spirits 
as Nora and Verity, and by the time the gong 



D46 


ii 


LETS CALL OURSELVES THE FOURSOME LEAGUE 


99 








I 





\ 






V 




1 




t 




I 

i 









27 


opening Day 

sounded for tea she had cheered up, and was sit- 
ting on her bed discussing school news. 

“ Look here! ” said Verity. ‘‘ If we want to 
have a jolly term we four must stick together. 
Let’s make a compact that, both in school and in 
the hostel, we’ll support each other through thick 
and thin. We’ll be a sort of society of Free- 
masons. I haven’t made up any secrets yet, but 
whoever betrays them will be outlawed! Let’s 
call ourselves ‘ The Foursome League.’ Now 
then, put your right hands all together on mine, 
and say after me : ‘ I hereby promise and vow 

on my honor as a gentlewoman that I’ll stand by 
my chums in No. 2 Dormitory at any cost.’ 
That’s a good beginning. When we’ve time, 
we’ll draw up the rules. Subscriptions? Oh, 
bother! You can each give sixpence if you like, 
and we’ll spend the money on a chocolate feast. 
Remember, Fil, not a word to anybody! It’s to 
be kept absolutely quiet. There’s the gong. If 
the tea’s up to the standard of the rest of the 
hostel, I shan’t object. Glad we’re not rationed 
now, for Fm as hungry as a hunter.” 


CHAPTER III 


Wynch-on-the-Wold 

Though the College only opened on Tuesday 
afternoon, the short remainder of the week 
seemed enormously long to Ingred. Her form 
mates were the same, but everything else was ab- 
solutely changed; she might have been at a new 
school. She appreciated the convenient arrange- 
ments of the handsome building: the lecture-hall, 
with its stained-glass window and polished floor, 
the airy class-rooms, the studio with its facilities 
for every kind of art work, the three music- 
rooms, the laboratory, the gymnasium, and, last 
but not least, the hostel. Ingred had never be- 
fore been a boarder, and she had not expected to 
like the experience, but there is a subtle charm in 
community life that infects everybody with “ the 
spirit of the hive,” and in spite of herself she 
began to be interested in the particular set of 
faces that met round the table for meals. The 
greater part of the girls were in the middle and 
lower school, but there were a few members of 
the Sixth, who sat next to Mrs. Best, the matron, 
28 


29 


W ynch-on-the-W old 

and Nurse Warner, and looked with superior eyes 
on the crowd of intermediates and juniors. To 
have secured such congenial room-mates was an 
asset for which she could not be sufficiently thank- 
ful. Whatever troubles might await her down- 
stairs, it was a comfort to know that she had 
three allies ready to flock to her support. She 
had not known any of them well in the past, but 
as they seemed prepared to offer their friendship, 
she also was ready to act the part of chum. By 
exchanging desks with Linda Slater, she managed 
to secure a seat next to Verity in school, and en- 
tered into an arrangement with her that they 
should supply the missing gaps in each other’s 
notes, for Miss Strong often lectured so rapidly 
that it was impossible to keep up with her. 

“ I wish I knew shorthand,” grumbled Ingred, 
comparing scribbles with Verity as the girls tidied 
their hair for tea. “ How anybody’s expected to 
get down all Miss Strong tells us, I can’t imagine ! 
It’s impossible.” 

” I don’t try,” admitted Fil. ‘‘ At least I do 
try — I put a bit here and there, but I write so 
slowly, I’m only half-way through before she’s 
bounced on to something else, and I’ve missed the 
beginning of it. I have to stop, too, sometimes, 
to think how to spell the words.” 

The others laughed, for Fil’s spelling was pro- 
verbial in the form, and was often of a purely 


30 A Popular Schoolgirl 

phonetic character. Miss Strong had periodical 
crusades to improve it, but generally gave them 
up as a bad job, and recommended constant use 
of a dictionary instead. 

“ Though you can’t go about the world with a 
dictionary perpetually under your arm,” she 
had remarked on the last occasion. “ If you 
have to write a letter in a hurry, and you begin 
‘ Dear Maddam ’ and end ‘ Yours trueley ’ — 
well ! Please don’t let anybody know you’ve been 
educated here, that’s all, or it will be a poor ad- 
vertisement for the College ! ” 

Ingred was not at all delighted to be still in 
Miss Strong’s form. She only moderately liked 
this mistress. Undoubtedly Miss Strong was a 
clever teacher, but sarcasm was one of her favorite 
weapons of discipline. Some of the girls did not 
mind it, indeed thought it rather amusing, even 
when directed against themselves, and enjoyed it 
hugely when someone else was the victim of the 
sally. Ingred, however, proud and sensitive, 
writhed under the attacks of Miss Strong’s sharp 
tongue, and would often have preferred a punish- 
ment to a witticism. As a matter of fact, the 
mistress rarely gave punishments, and was proud 
of her ability to control her form without resort- 
ing to them. She was short in stature, but made 
up in spirit for her lack of inches, and would fix 
her dark eyes on offenders against discipline with 


31 


W ynch-on-the-W old 

the personal magnetism of a circus trainer or a 
leopard-tamer. Schoolgirls are irreverent beings, 
and though to her face her pupils showed her all 
respect, behind her back they spoke of her famil- 
iarly as “ The Bantam,” in allusion to her small 
size but plucky disposition, or sometimes, in ref- 
erence to her sarcastic powers, as “ The Sark,” 
which by general custom became “ The Snark.” 
On the whole Miss Strong’s pithy, racy, humorous 
style of teaching made her a far greater favorite 
than mistresses of duller caliber. She had a re- 
markable faculty for getting work out of the 
most unwilling brains. Her form always made 
excellent progress, and she had a reputation for 
obtaining record successes in examinations. To 
judge from the first few days of term, she meant 
to keep up her standard of efficiency. Miss Burd 
had mapped out a heavy time-table for Va., and 
it was Miss Strong’s business to see that the girls 
got through it. Of course they grumbled. After 
the long weeks of the summer holidays it was 
doubly difficult to apply their minds to lessons, 
and set to work in the evenings to perform the 
enormous amount of preparation demanded from 
them. To some the task was wellnigh impos- 
sible, and poor Fil would send in very imperfect 
exercises, but others, Ingred and Verity among 
the number, had ambitions, and boosted up the 
record of the form. 


32 A Popular Schoolgirl 

It was after a most strenuous few days that 
Ingred came to the close of the first week of the 
new term, and, taking her books and hand-bag, 
started off to spend the week-end at home. She 
left the College with a feeling of intense relief. 
She had dreaded the return there, and the con- 
fession of her altered circumstances. It had not 
proved quite so disagreeable an ordeal as she had 
anticipated, for, after the first expressions of 
surprise, nobody had referred again to Rother- 
wood; yet Ingred, on the look-out for slights, 
imagined that she was not treated with as much 
consideration as formerly. Avis Marlowe and 
Jess Howard had hardly spoken to her, and, 
though the omission was probably owing to sheer 
lack of time or opportunity, she chose to set it 
down to a desire to show her the cold shoulder. 

“ Now I have no parties to offer them, they 
don’t care about me ! ” she thought bitterly. 
“ They’ll hunt about till they find somebody else 
who’s likely to act entertainer.” 

Fortunately, as Ingred stepped out of the Col- 
lege on that first Friday afternoon, the fresh 
breeze and the bright September sunshine blew 
away the cobwebs, and sent her almost dancing 
down the street. She had a naturally buoyant 
disposition, and her uppermost thought was : “ I’m 
going home ! I’m going home ! Hurrah ! ” 

The journey was really quite a little business. 


33 


W ynch-on-the- W old 

She had to take a tram to the Waterstoke termi- 
nus, then change on to a light electric railway that 
ran along the roadside for seven miles to Wynch- 
on-the-Wold. Grovebury, an old town that dated 
back to mediaeval times, lay in a deep hollow 
among a rampart of hills, so that, in whatever 
direction you left it, you were obliged to climb. 
The scenery was very beautiful, for trees edged 
the river, and clothed the slopes till they gave 
way to the gorse and heather of the wild moor- 
lands. Wynch-on-the-Wold was a hamlet which, 
since the opening of the electric railway, was just 
beginning to turn into a suburb of Grovebury. 
Close to the terminus neat villas had sprung up 
like mushrooms; there were a few shops and a 
branch post office, and a brass plate to the effect 
that Dr. Whittaker had consulting hours twice a 
week. Tradesmen’s carts drove out constantly, 
and the electric railway did quite a little busi- 
ness in the conveyance of parcels. 

Wynchcote, the house where the Saxons had 
retired to try their scheme of retrenchment, lay at 
some little distance beyond the terminus, and 
might be considered the outpost of the new sub- 
urb. It was a small, picturesque modern bunga- 
low; Mr. Saxon had built it as an architectural 
experiment, intending it for a sort of model coun- 
try cottage. The tenants who had occupied it 
during the period of the war had just returned 


34 A Popular Schoolgirl 

to Scotland, so, as it was vacant, it had seemed a 
convenient place in which to settle. It was near 
enough to Grovebury to allow him to attend his 
office, and far enough away to cut them adrift 
from old associations. After four and a half 
years of war work, Mrs. Saxon wanted a complete 
rest from committees, creches, canteens, and rec- 
reation huts, and would be glad to urge the excuse 
of distance to those who appealed for her help. 
Perhaps also she felt that in their straitened cir- 
cumstances it was wiser to live where they could 
not enter into social competition with their former 
acquaintances. 

“ I just want to be quiet, to attend to my fam- 
ily, and to enjoy the moors and our garden,” she 
declared. “ I believe I’m going to be very happy 
at Wynchcote.” 

Though it was small, the bungalow was admir- 
ably planned, and had many advantages. The 
view from its French window was one of the finest 
in the district, and it faced a magnificent gorge, 
wild, rocky, and thickly wooded, at the bottom 
of which wound the silver river that ran through 
Grovebury. Civilization, in the shape of fields 
and hedges, stretched out fingers as far as Wynch- 
cote, and there stopped abruptly. Past the bunga- 
low lay the open wold with miles of heather, 
gorse, and bracken, and a road edged with low, 
grassy fern-covered banks instead of walls. The 


35 


W ynch-on-the-W old 

air blew freshly up here, and was far more brac- 
ing and healthy than down in the hollow of Grove- 
bury. The residents of the new suburb affected 
sea-side fashions, and went their moorland walks 
without hats or gloves. 

Ingred was joined in the tram-car by Hereward, 
who attended the King George’s School, and made 
the journey daily. 

“ Getting quite used to it now ! ” he assured his 
sister airily. “ I had a terrific run yesterday for 
the train, but I caught it! There’s another fel- 
low in our form living up here, so we generally 
go together — Scampton, that chap in the cricket 
cap standing by the door. He’s Ai. He won’t 
come near now, though, because he says he’s ter- 
rified of girls. He’s going to give me a rabbit, 
and I shall make a hutch for it out of one of those 
packing-cases. See, I’ve bought a piece of wire- 
netting for the door. There’s heaps of room at 
the bottom of the garden. I believe I’ll ask him 
to bring it over after tea.” 

“ But the hutch isn’t ready,” objected Ingred. 

“ Oh, that won’t matter ! I can keep It in a 
packing-case for a day or two.” 

When Ingred and Hereward reached home they 
found that tea had been set out on the patch of 
grass under the apple trees, and Mother and 
Quenrede were sitting sewing and waiting for 
them. It was one of those beautiful September 


36 A Popular Schoolgirl 

days when the air seems almost as warm as in 
August, and with the clock still at summer time, 
the sun had not climbed very far down the valley. 
The garden, where Mother and Quenrede had 
been working busily all the afternoon, was gay 
with nasturtiums and asters, and overhead hung 
a crop of the i-osiest apples ever seen. Minx, the 
Persian cat, wandered round, waving a stately tail 
and mewing plaintively for her saucer of milk. 
Derry, the fox terrier, barked an enthusiastic 
greeting. 

“ Come along, you poor starving wanderers! ” 
said Mrs. Saxon. “ The kettle’s boiling, and 
we’ll make the tea in half a moment. Isn’t it 
glorious here? Queenie and I have been digging 
up potatoes, and we quite enjoyed it. We felt 
exactly as if we were ‘ on the land.’ How is your 
cold, Hereward? Ingred, you look tired, child! 
Sit down and rest while Queenie fetches the tea- 
pot.” 

Ingred sank into a garden-chair with much sat- 
isfaction. Wynchcote might not be Rotherwood, 
but it looked an uncommonly pretty little place in 
the September sunshine. To live there would be 
like a perpetual picnic. Mother and Queenie 
looked so complacently smiling that it seemed im- 
possible to grouse, especially with newly-baked 
scones and rock-cakes on the tea-table. 

The men kind of the family had not yet re- 


37 


W ynch-on-the-W old 

turned home. Mr. Saxon and Egbert rarely left 
their office before six, and Athelstane had that 
day gone over to Birkshaw on the motor-bicycle, 
to arrange about the medical course which he was 
to take at the University. There was plenty of 
news, however, to be exchanged. Ingred had to 
give a full account of her experiences at school 
and hostel, and to hear in return the various 
achievements in the shape of home-carpentry, 
mending, making, and altering which are always 
an essential part of settling into a new establish- 
ment. 

“ I hardly feel I’ve been round the estate prop- 
erly yet,” she said, when tea was over, and she sat 
leaning back lazily in her deck-chair, with Minx 
purring upon her knee. 

“ Then come and lend me a hand with my rab- 
bit-hutch,” suggested Hereward. “ Put down 
that wretched pampered beast of a cat, for good- 
ness sake! If it gets at my new rabbit. I’ll finish 
it! Yes, I will! I’ll hang it or drown it! Get 
along, you brute ! ” 

Hereward’s blood-thirsty remarks were ignored 
by Minx, who, finding herself dropped from In- 
gred’s lap, took a flying run up his back, and set- 
tled herself on his shoulder, rubbing her head into 
his neck. He scratched her under the chin, 
swung her gently down, and shook a reproving 
finger at her. 


38 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Don’t try to come round me with your blar- 
neyings, you siren ! ” he declared. “ Who was it 
ate my goldfinch? Yes, you may well look guilty ! 
Don’t blink your eyes at me like that! I haven’t 
forgiven you yet, and I don’t think I ever shall. 
Ingred, old sport, are you coming to help me, or 
are you not? I want some one to hold the wire.” 

“ All right. Uncle Podger, I’ll come and 
‘ podge ’ for you,” laughed Ingred. “ Don’t 
hammer my fingers, that’s all I bargain for. 
Wait a moment till I get my overall. Your join- 
ering performances are apt to be somewhat 
grubby and messy.” 

There was quite a good garden at the back of 
the bungalow, with rows of vegetables and goose- 
berry bushes and fruit-trees. At the end was a 
wooden shed where the motor-bicycle was kept, 
and a small wired enclosure originally made for 
hens. 

“ It’s exactly the place for rabbits, when I get 
a hutch for them,” explained Hereward, putting 
down his box of tools, and turning over the pack- 
ing-case with a professional eye. “ Now a 
wooden frame covered with wire, and a pair of 
hinges will just do the job. I can saw these 
pieces to fit. Hold the wood steady, that’s a mas- 
cot I ” 

The two were kneeling on the ground by the 
side of the packing-case, much absorbed in the 


39 


W ynch-on-the-W old 

process of exact measurements, when suddenly 
there was a rustling and a scrambling noise, and on 
the wall close to them appeared a collie dog, 
growling, snarling, and showing its teeth. In- 
gred sprang to her feet in alarm. Wynchcote 
was so retired that they had scarcely realized 
that its garden adjoined the garden of another 
house. The collie must have jumped up on to the 
dividing wall, and, being an ill-tempered beast, 
did not use proper discrimination between neigh- 
bors and tramps. 

“Shoo! Get away!” urged Ingred, with 
rather shaking knees. 

“ Be off, you ill-mannered brute ! ” shouted 
Hereward. 

The dog, however, appeared to think the wall 
was his own special property, and that it was his 
business to drive them away from their own gar- 
den. It continued to bark and snarl. Now, as 
Hereward wished to fix the rabbit-hutch in exactly 
the spot over which the creature had mounted 
guard, he was naturally much annoyed, and sought 
for some ready means of dislodging it from its 
point of vantage. He did not relish the prospect 
of being bitten, so did not want to engage it at 
close quarters, and no pole or other weapon lay 
handy. 

Looking hastily round, his eye fell upon the 
garden-syringe with which Athelstane sometimes 


40 A Popular Schoolgirl 

cleaned the motor-bicycle. It had been left, with 
a bucket of water, outside the shed. He drew 
out the piston, filled the syringe, then discharged 
its contents straight at the dog. But at that most 
unlucky moment a quick change took place on the 
wall; the collie retired in favor of his master, and 
the stream of water charged full into the aston- 
ished countenance of a precise and elderly gentle- 
man from next door. For a few moments there 
was a ghastly silence, while he wiped his face and 
recovered his dignity. Then he demanded in 
withering tones: 

“ May I ask what is the meaning of this? ” 

Ingred and Hereward, overwhelmed with con- 
fusion, stuttered out apologies and explanations. 
The old gentleman listened with his busy gray 
eyebrows knitted and his mouth pursed into a thin 
line. 

“ I shall immediately take steps to ensure that 
my dog has no further opportunities of annoying 
you,” he remarked stiffly, and took his departure. 

“ Who is he? ” whispered Ingred, as the foot- 
steps on the other side of the wall shuffled away. 

“ His name’s Mr. Hardcastle. He’s retired, 
and lives there with a housekeeper. Great Scot! 
I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I? Who’d have 
thought he was just going to pop his head up? 
Dad was going to ask him to lend us his garden- 


41 


Wynch-on-the-W old 

roller, but it’s no use now. I expect I’ve made 
an enemy of him for life ! ” 

“ I hope he means to keep that savage dog 
fastened up,” said Ingred. “ It’s a horrid idea to 
think that it may, any time, pounce over the wall 
at us. It’s like having a wolf loose in the garden.” 

As a matter of fact, Mr. Hardcastle kept his 
word in a way that the Saxons least anticipated. 
Instead of chaining the dog, he had a tall wooden 
paling erected along the top of the wall, making an 
effectual barrier between the two gardens. It was 
not a beautiful object, and it cut off the sunshine 
from a whole long flower-bed; so, though it in- 
sured privacy, it might be regarded as a doubtful 
benefit for the bungalow. 

“ It makes one feel so suburban,” mourned 
Quenrede. 

“ We shan’t be visible, at any rate, when we’re 
digging potatoes,” laughed Mrs. Saxon, “ and 
that’s a great point to me, for I’m past the age 
that looks fascinating in an overall. If we’ve 
Suburbia on one side of us, we’ve the open moor 
on the other, which is something to be thankful 
for.” 

“ Yes, until it’s sold in building plots,” sighed 
Quenrede, who was in a fit of blues, and unwilling 
to count up her blessings. 


CHAPTER IV 


Intruder Bess 

Ingred, after a blissful week-end, returned to 
Grovebury by the early train on Monday morning, 
and, wrenching her mind with difficulty from the 
interests of Wynch-on-the-Wold, focused it on 
school affairs instead. There was certainly need 
of mental concentration if she meant to make 
headway in the College. The standard of work 
required from Va. was very stiff, and taxed the 
powers of even the brightest girls to the utter- 
most. 

“Miss Strong reminds me of Rehoboam!” 
wailed Fil, fresh from the study of the Second 
Book of Chronicles. “ Her little finger’s thicker 
than her whole body used to be, and, instead of 
whips, she chastises us with scorpions. I want to 
go and bow the knee to Baal.” 

“ Rather mixed up in your Scripture, child, but 
we understand your meaning,” laughed Verity. 
“ The Bantam’s certainly piling it on nowadays in 
the way of prep.” 


42 


Intruder Bess 


43 


“ Shows an absolutely brutal lack of consider- 
ation, ” agreed Nora. 

“ So do all the mistresses,” groaned IngrW. 
“ Each of them seems to think we’ve nothing to 
do but her own particular subject. Dr. Linton 
actually asked me if I could practise two hours a 
day. Why, he might as well have suggested four ! 
I can only get the piano for an hour, even if I 
wanted it longer. It’s a frightful business at the 
hostel to cram in all our practicing, isn’t it? I 
nearly had a free fight with Janie Potter yester- 
day. She commandeered the piano, and though I 
showed her the music time-table, with my name 
down for ‘ 5 to 6 ’ she wouldn’t budge. I had to 
tilt her off the stool in the end. It was like a 
game of musical chairs. She wouldn’t look at me 
to-day, she’s so cross about it. Not that I care in 
the least ! ” 

Music was a favorite subject with Ingred, and 
one in which she excelled. She would willingly 
have given more time to it, had the school curric- 
ulum allowed. She was a good reader, and had 
a sympathetic, if rather spidery touch. This term 
she had begun lessons with Dr. Linton, who was 
considered the best master in Grovebury. He 
was organist at the Abbey Church, and was not 
only a Doctor of Music, but a composer as well. 
His anthems and cantatas were widely known, he 
conducted the local choral society and trained the 


44 A Popular Schoolgirl 

operatic society for the annual performance. His 
time was generally very full, so he did not profess 
to teach juniors; it was only after celebrating her 
fifteenth birthday that Ingred had been eligible 
as one of his pupils. He had the reputation of 
being peppery tempered, therefore she walked 
into the room to take her first lesson with her 
heart performing a sort of jazz dance under her 
jersey. Dr. Linton, like many musicians, was of 
an artistic and excitable temperament, and highly 
eccentric. Instead of sitting by the side of his 
new pupil, he paced the room, pursing his lips in 
and out, and drawing his fingers through his long 
lank dark hair. 

“ Have you brought a piece with you,” he in- 
quired. “ Then play to me. Oh, never mind if 
you make mistakes! That's not the point. I 
want to know how you can talk on the piano. 
What have you got in that folio? Beethoven? 
Rachmaninoff? M’Dowell? We’ll try the 
Beethoven. Now don’t be nervous. Just fire 
away as if you were practising at home 1 ” 

It was all very well, Ingred thought, for Dr. 
Linton to tell her not to be nervous, but it was a 
considerable ordeal to have to perform a test piece 
before so keen a critic. In spite of her most val- 
iant efforts her hands trembled, and wrong chords 
crept in. She kept bravely at it, however, and 
managed to reach the end of the first movement. 


Intruder Bess 


45 


where she called a halt. 

“ It’s not talking — it’s only stuttering and 
stammering on the piano,” she apologized. 

Dr. Linton laughed. Her remark had evi- 
dently pleased him. He always liked a pupil who 
fell in with his humor. 

“ You’ve the elements of speech in you, though 
you’re still in the prattling-baby stage,” he con- 
ceded. “ It’s something, at any rate, to find 
there’s material to work upon. Some people 
wouldn’t make musicians if they practised for a 
hundred years. We’ve got to alter your touch — 
your technique’s entirely wrong — but if you’re 
content to concentrate on that, we’ll soon show 
some progress. You’ll have to stick to simple 
studies this term : no blazing away into M’Dowell 
and Rachmaninoff yet awhile.” 

“ I’ll do anything you tell me,” agreed Ingred 
humbly. 

Dr. Linton’s manner might be brusque, but he 
seemed prepared to take an interest in her work. 
He was known to give special pains to those 
whose artistic caliber appealed to him. In his 
opinion pupils fell under two headings : those who 
had music in them, and those who had not. The 
latter, though he might drill them in technique, 
would never make really satisfactory pianists; the 
former, by dint of scolding or cajoling, according 
to his mood at the moment, might derive real 


46 A Popular Schoolgirl 

benefit from his tuition, and become a credit to 
him. It was a by-word in the school that his 
favorites had the stormiest lessons. 

“ I’m thankful I’m not a pet pupil,” declared 
Fil, whose playing was hardly of a classical order. 
“ I should have forty fits if he stalked about the 
room, and tore his hair, and shouted like he does 
with Janie. He scared me quite enough sitting by 
my side and saying : ‘ Shall we take this again 

now?’ with a sort of grim politeness, as if he 
were making an effort to restrain his temper. I 
know I’m not what he calls musical, but I can’t 
help it. I’d rather hear comic opera any day 
than his wretched cantatas, and when I’m not 
practising I shall play what I like. There ! ” 

And Fil, who was sitting at the piano, twirled 
round on the stool and strummed “ Beautiful K — 
K — Katie ” with a lack of technique that prob- 
ably would have brought her teacher’s temper up 
to bubbling-over point had he been there to listen 
to her. 

It was exactly ten days after the term had be- 
gun that Bess Hazelford came to the College. 
She walked into the Upper Fifth Form room one 
Monday morning, looking very shy and lost and 
strange, and stood forlornly, not knowing where 
to sit, till somebody took pity on her, and pointed 
to a vacant desk. It happened to be on a line 
with Ingred’s, and the latter watched her settle 


Intruder Bess 


47 


herself. She looked her over with the critical 
air that is generally bestowed on new girls, and 
decided that she was particularly pretty. Bess 
was the image of one of the Sir Joshua Reynolds’ 
child angels in the National Gallery. The like- 
ness was so great that her mother had always cut 
and curled her golden-brown hair in exact copy 
of the picture. She was a slim, rosy, bright-eyed, 
smiling specimen of girlhood, and, though on this 
first morning she was manifestly afflicted with shy- 
ness, she had the appearance of one whose ac- 
quaintance might be worth making. Ingred de- 
cided to cultivate it at the earliest opportunity, 
and spoke to the new arrival at liinch-time. Bess 
replied readily to the usual questions. 

“ WeVe only come lately to Grovebury. We 
used to live at Birkshaw. Yes, I’m fairly keen on 
hockey, though I like tennis better. Have you 
asphalt courts here, and do you play in the winter? 
I adore dancing, but I hate gym. I’m learning 
the violin, and I’m to start oil-painting this term.” 

She seemed such a pleasant, winsome kind of 
girl that Ingred, who was apt to take sudden 
fancies, constituted herself her cicerone, and 
showed her round the school. By the time they 
had made the entire tour of the buildings, Ingred 
began to wonder whether, without offense, it 
would be possible to leave her desk, next to Ver- 
ity, and sit beside Bess. There was a great 


/ 


48 A Popular Schoolgirl 

charm of voice and manner about the new-comer, 
and Ingred’s musical ear was sensitive to gentle 
voices. She discussed Bess with the others next 
morning before school. 

“ Yes, she’s pretty, and that blue dress is simply 
adorable,” conceded Nora. “ I’m going to have 
an embroidered one myself next time.” 

” Her hair is so sweet,” commented Francie. 

“ I call her ripping ! ” said Ingred with enthusi- 
asm. 

“ Well, you ought to take an interest in her, 
Ingred, considering that she lives at Rotherwood,” 
put in Beatrice. 

“ At Rotherwood ! ” 

“ Yes, didn’t you know that?*' 

Ingred, under pretence of distributing exercise- 
books, turned hastily away. Her heart was in 
a sudden turmoil. This was indeed a bolt from 
the blue. She, of course, knew that Rotherwood 
was let, but she had not heard the name of the 
tenants, and, as the subject was a sore one, had 
forborne to ask any questions at home. It was 
surely the irony of fate that the house should be 
taken by people who had a daughter of her own 
age, and that this daughter should come to the 
College, and actually be placed in the same form 
as herself. She seemed a rival ready-made. 
Biased by jealous prejudice, Ingred’s hastily- 
formed judgment reversed itself. 


Intruder Bess 


49 


“ I’m thankful I didn’t move away from Verity 
to sit next to her,” she thought. “ I expect she’ll 
be ever so conceited and give herself airs, and the 
other girls will truckle to her no end. I know 
them! I wish to goodness she hadn’t come to 
the College. Why didn’t they send her away to 
a boarding school? I’m not going to make a fuss 
over her, so she needn’t think it.” 

Poor Bess, quite unaware of being any cause of 
offence, and grateful for the kindness shown her 
the day before, greeted Ingred in most friendly 
fashion, and looked amazement itself at the cool 
reception of her advances. She stared for a mo- 
ment as if hardly believing the evidence of her 
eyes and ears, then turned away with a hurt look 
on her pretty, sensitive face. 

Ingred shut her desk with a slam. She was 
feeling very uncomfortable. She had liked Bess 
with a kind of love-at-lirst-sight, and if the latter 
had come to live at any other house in the town 
than Rotherwood, would have been prepared to 
go on liking her. Generosity whispered that her 
conduct was unjust, but at this particular stage of 
Ingred’s evolution she did not always listen to 
those inner voices that act as our highest guides. 
Like most of us, she had a mixed character, cap- 
able of many good things but with certain fail- 
ings. Rotherwood was what the girls called ‘‘ the 
bee in her bonnet,” and tlie knowledge that Bess 


so A Popular Schoolgirl 

was in possession of the beautiful home she had 
lost was sufficient to check the incipient friend- 
ship. 

It was otherwise with the rest of the form. 
They frankly welcomed the new-comer, and if they 
did not, as Ingred had bitterly prognosticated, ex- 
actly “ truckle ” to her, they certainly began to 
treat her as a favorite. She was asked at once to 
join the Photographic Society and the Drawing 
Club, and her very superior camera, beautiful 
color-box, and other up-to-date equipments were 
immensely admired. Ingred, on the outside of 
the enthusiastic circle, preserved a stony silence. 
Her own camera was three years old, and she did 
not possess materials for oil-painting. She 
thought it quite unnecessary for Verity to want 
to look at Bess’s paraphernalia. Verity, who 
was a kind-hearted little soul, perhaps divined the 
cause of her chum’s glumness, for she came pres- 
ently And took Ingred’s arm. 

“ I’ve something to tell you, Ingred,” she 
whispered. “ We are to have the election on Fri- 
day afternoon, and everybody’s saying you’ll be 
chosen warden for the form.” 

“ Don’t suppose I’ve the remotest chance ! ” 
grunted Ingred gloomily. 

“ Nonsense ! Don’t be a blue-bottle ! Cheery- 
ho ! In my opinion you’ll just have an easy walk 


over. 


Intruder Bess 


51 

With the removal into the new building, Miss 
Burd had instituted many innovations and changes. 
Among the most important of these was the Col- 
lege Council, which really served as a sort of 
House of Parliament for the school. Each form 
among the seniors and intermediates was to elect 
a representative called a warden, and these, with 
such permanent officers as the prefects and the 
games captain, were to meet once a fortnight to 
discuss questions of self-government. It was a 
new experiment, and the head mistress hoped it 
would give the girls some idea of responsibility, 
and train them to understand civic duties later on. 
The girls themselves voted it a “ ripping ” idea. 
They took it up most enthusiastically. It would 
be fun to have elections, and it seemed desirable 
that there should be a warden to look after the 
interests of each separate form. 

When I was in the Fourth we never got a 
chance for the tennis courts, and it was utterly 
hopeless to appeal to the prefects,” said Ingred. 
“ I always used to feel there ought to be some way 
of making one’s voice heard.” 

“ Well, if you’re elected, you’ll have a chance 
to make your maiden speech! ” laughed Verity. 
“ By the bye, will there be a ‘ Strangers’ Gallery, 
so that we can come and listen to you? I’d be 
sorry to miss the fun ! ” 

Friday afternoon had been fixed for the elec- 


52 A Popular Schoolgirl 

tion, and a bright Idea originated in Va., circu- 
lated through the school, and finally crystallized 
in the Sixth. It was nothing less than that each 
form should make a special fete of the affair. 
Lispeth Scott, the head girl, went boldly to Miss 
Burd, and asked permission for those who liked 
to bring thermos flasks, cups, and bags of buns and 
cakes, and hold parties in the various classrooms. 

“ It would make so much more of the whole 
thing,” she urged. “ If we simply stop for ten 
minutes after school and vote. I’m afraid it may 
fall rather flat. But if every form has its fes- 
tival to elect its own warden, it will make the coun- 
cil seem a much more important business. We’d 
like to be allowed to stay till about half-past five, 
if we may, so that there would be time to have 
some fun over It. We’d promise not to make a 
mess with our picnicking.” 

Miss Burd, looking rather astonished, never- 
theless consented. She was a wise woman, and 
believed in permitting a certain amount of liberty, 
within limits. 

“ You may try it this once,” she conceded. 
“ But it’s on the distinct understanding that you’re 
all on your good behavior. I shall hold you pre- 
fects responsible for controlling the school. If 
you hear a great noise, you must go into their 
form-rooms and stop them. I can’t allow the 
College to be turned into a bear-garden.” 


Intruder Bess 


53 


“ We won’t! I’ll put them all on their honor 
to behave, and I’ll leave the door of our form- 
room open so that I can hear what’s going on. 
Thank you so much, Miss Burd 1 ” 

And Lispeth departed, fearful lest any other 
qualifications should be added to temper the joy 
of the proceedings. 

Six girls, waiting outside the door to hear the 
result of the negotiations, waved signals of success 
to others farther down the corridor, and, in an al- 
most incredibly short space of time, the happy 
news had spread to the remotest corners of the 
school. 

“ But how are we hostelites going to manage 
our share ? ” asked Ingred anxiously. 

“ Don’t you worry about that,” Jess and Fran- 
cie assured her. “ Ten girls in our form have 
promised to bring thermos flasks, and if we pool 
to tea there’ll be heaps to go round, and the same 
with buns and cakes. We’ll each bring a little 
extra to make enough. The hostel will very likely 
lend you each a cup if you ask for it. That’s all 
you’ll need! ” 

“ Right- 0 ! We’ll cast ourselves on the char- 
ity of the form! ” agreed Ingred. 


CHAPTER V 


The Fifth-form Fete 

By a general indulgence issued from headquar- 
ters, the dismissal bell rang at 3 : 45 the next Fri- 
day afternoon, instead of, as usual, at four o’clock. 
The mistresses entered up the marks, put away 
their books, said “ Good afternoon, girls ! ” and 
made their exit, leaving the building for once in 
the sole possession of the pupils. Miss Strong, 
indeed, who disapproved of the whole business, 
took the precaution of locking her desk before 
her departure, a proceeding which provoked in- 
dignant sniffs from the witnesses; but, sublimely 
indifferent to public opinion, she put the key in her 
pocket, and stalked from the room. The girls 
gave her a few moments’ grace to get out of ear- 
shot, then broke into a babble of conversation. 

“ Which are we having first, the election or the 
tea?” 

“ Oh, the tea ! ” 

“No, no! Business first and pleasure after- 
wards.” 

“ I can’t vote till I’ve had some tea.” 

“ It’s too early! ” 


54 


The Fifth-form Fete 


55 


“ No, it isn’t! We’re most of us ready for it.” 
“ Look here I ” suggested Ingred. “ Let’s set- 
tle it this way. Have tea first, then the election, 
and then some fun afterwards. Don’t you think 
that would sandwich things best?” 

“ True, O Queen ! I don’t mind what happens 
afterwards, so long as I get a bun quick ! ” 

“ Let’s fetch the prog,” agreed Linda Slater, 
leading the way towards the cloak-room where the 
baskets had been stored. 

The giggling procession met emissaries from 
other forms, bent on a like errand, and exchanged 
a brisk banter as they passed on the stairs. 
‘‘We’ve got jam tartlets! ” 

“ Not as nice as our cheese cakes ! ” 

‘‘ Nellie’s brought a whole pound of maca- 
roons ! ” 

“ Oh! will you swap with us for rock buns? ” 
‘‘ I should just think not! ” 

‘‘ Dolly Arden has five oranges ! ” 

“ Well, we’ve got bananas! ” 

After successfully fetching the provisions, hav- 
ing routed a marauding band of juniors who were 
poking inquisitive fingers into the baskets, the 
members of Va. returned to the form-room, 
closed the door, and gave themselves up to fes- 
tivity. The four girls from the hostel need have 
had no fear of scarcity, for the others had brought 
ample to compensate for their deficiency. By 


5 6 A Popular Schoolgirl 

general consent all the cakes were pooled, set out 
on hard-backed exercise books in lieu of plates, 
and handed round the company. Bess, whose 
basket contained two thermos flasks, a dozen 
cheese cakes, and some meringues, was felt to 
have brought a valuable contribution. It seemed 
a new experience to be sitting at their desks, 
drinking tea and eating cakes, instead of doing 
translation or writing exercises. 

“ Pity the Snark didn’t stop ! She doesn’t 
know what she’s missing! ” remarked Joanna 
Powers, as she took a meringue. 

“Oh, Kafoozalum! We shouldn’t have had 
much fun if the Snark had stayed! Don’t bring 
her back, for goodness’ sake, Jo! ’’ 

“ I wasn’t going to ! Besides which, she’s 
probably half-way down town at present, having 
tea in a cafe. She generally does on Fridays.’’ 

“ She won’t get a better tea than we’re hav- 
ing! ” 

“I’ll undertake she won’t! This meringue is 
absolutely topping! I wonder if there’s another 
left.’’ 

“ No, they’re gone, every one of them! ” 

“ Hard luck! ” 

Though the hour might be early, the girls’ ap- 
petites were quite equal to the task of finishing the 
various delicacies in the way of sweet stuff which 
they had brought with them. Cakes disappeared 


The Fifth-form Fete 


57 


like snow in summer, and chocolate boxes, passed 
round impartially, soon returned empty to their 
owners. When everything seemed almost 
finished, Bess produced another hamper, which 
she had carried up from the cloak-room, and 
stowed away under her desk. She handed it 
rather shyly to Beatrice, who happened to be her 
nearest neighbor. 

“ Mother sent these, and wants you all to share 
them,” she remarked. 

Beatrice, Francie, and Linda opened the ham- 
per all three together, then with a delighted 
“ O-Oh ! ” of satisfaction drew out six beautiful 
bunches of purple grapes. Ingred, finishing her 
cup of tea, choked and coughed. She knew those 
grapes well. They grew in the vinery at Rother- 
wood, and had been the pride of her father and 
of the head-gardener. She had not tasted one of 
them for five years, for during the war they had 
always been given to the patients in the Red Cross 
Hospital, but she could not forget their delicious 
flavor. Why had her father let the vinery with 
the house ? The grapes ought to be hers to give 
away — not this girl’s. Nobody else in the room 
cared in the least where the fruit came from, so 
long as it was there. Appreciative eyes looked 
on in glad anticipation while Beatrice and Francie 
divided the bunches with as much mathematical 
accuracy as they could muster at the moment. A 


5^ A Popular Schoolgirl 

portion was laid upon each desk, and the girls fell 
to. 

“ Delicious!” 

“ Never tasted better in my life 1 ” 

“ Absolutely topping ! ” 

“ Makes one want to go and live in a vine- 
yard!” 

“They’re exactly ripe!” 

“ Ingred, you’re not eating yours! ” 

“ I don’t want them, thanks,” said Ingred 
hurriedly. “ I don’t indeed. I’ve had enough. 
Pass them on to somebody else, please ! ” 

“ Well, if you really don’t want them, they 
won’t go a-begging, I dare say ! ” 

Ingred felt as if the grapes would choke her. 
She could not touch one of them. She hated 
Bess for having brought them to school, quite ir- 
respective of the fact that she would have done 
exactly the same in her place, had she been for- 
tunate enough to have the opportunity. Bess, 
looking shy, and anxious to evade the thanks that 
poured in upon her, bundled the hamper away un- 
der the desk again, and made a palpable effort to 
change the subject. 

“ What about this election? ” she asked. 
“ Time’s getting on. It’s after half-past four.” 

“ Good night ! Have we been all that time 
feeding? Here, girls, if you’ve quite finished, 
let’s get to business,” said Avis, rapping on her 


The Fifth-form Fete 


59 


desk as a signal for silence, and constituting her- 
self spokeswoman for the occasion. ‘‘You know 
what weVe met here for — to choose a warden 
to represent us on the School Council. Well, I 
feel we couldn’t do better than send up Ingred 
Saxon. She’d look after our interests all right, 
if anybody would. I beg to propose Ingred 
Saxon.” 

“ And I beg to second that! ” called Nora. 

“ Hands up, those in favor I ’ 

Such a forest of arms immediately waved in the 
air that (though in strict order) it seemed hardly 
necessary for Avis to call out : 

“ Those against 1 ” 

No opposition hands appeared, so without fur- 
ther discussion the election was carried. 

“Congrats, Ingred!” said Nora, patting the 
heroine on the back. 

“ I told you it would be a walk over, old 
sport! ” whispered Verity. 

“ We’d talked It over beforehand, you see, and 
everybody had agreed to choose you, so it was 
really only a matter of form,” explained Fran- 
cie. 

“ The Sixth are having a ballot,” put In Jess. 

*“ And Vb. are going to fight like Kilkenny cats 
over Magsie and Barbara.” 

“ There’ll be some hullabaloo in several of the 
forms, I expect.” 


6o A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Thanks awfully for electing me,” replied In- 
gred. “ I suppose I ought to make a speech, but 
1 really don’t know what to say! ” 

“You’ve got to say it all the same! ” laughed 
Verity. “ Members of Parliament always make 
speeches to their constituents. Here, take the 
Snark’s desk as your thingumgig — rostrum, or 
whatever it’s called, and begin your jaw-wag!” 

“ Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your 
ears ! ” squeaked Kitty Saunders. 

Pushed forward by a dozen hands, Ingred 
found herself occupying the mistress’s place, and, 
facing her audience, made a valiant attempt at ora- 
tory. With cheeks aglow, and dark eyes shining 
like stars, she looked an attractive little figure, 
and a bright and suitable leader for the form. 

“ I can’t really think why you should have 
chosen me,” she began (“ don’t be too modest! ” 
yelled a voice from the back) , “ but as you have 
made me your warden, Pll take care that all our 
grievances are very well aired at the School Coun- 
cil. (“You’ll have your work cut out!” inter- 
rupted Francie.) Of course I know it won’t all 
be plain sailing, and that the Sixth need a great 
deal of sticking up to over many matters.” 
(“That’s so!” came from the front desk.) 
“ But perhaps they’ll be prepared to talk things 
over now, and make some concessions.” (“Time 
they did ! ”) “ At any rate, I shall be able to tell 


The Fifth-form Fete 


6i 


them what you all think” (^‘Flattering for 
them! ”), “ and to make things as smooth as pos- 
sible for Va. Now, as Fm warden, may I pro- 
pose that we have some fun before we go? Shall 
we have music, or games? Hands up for an 
Emergency Concert! ” 

“ A very neat way of getting out of further 
speechifying! ” said Verity, as by general consent 
the concert carried the day; “ but you shall open 
it yourself. Madam Warden, so I warn you! 
You’re not going to be let off, don’t you think it! 
Silence ! Ladies and gentlemen, the first item on 
the program will be a piano solo by Miss In- 
gred Saxon, the celebrated musical star, brought 
over at enormous expense, on purpose for this oc- 
casion.” 

“You blighter!” murmured Ingred, as the 
prospective audience shouted “Hear! Hear!” 

“ Not a bit of it! ” purred Verity. “ I guess 
we’ll take sparks out of the Sixth and everybody 
else.” 

Va. that afternoon was certainly in a position 
to boast itself. It was the only form in possession 
of a piano : for by the sheerest accident it had one. 
The instrument was only a temporary visitor, 
placed there for convenience while some repairs 
were being done to a leaking gas-pipe in one of 
the music rooms. It’s an ill wind, however, that 
blows nobody good, and it gave Va. an opportun- 


62 A Popular Schoolgirl 

ity that was denied even to the Sixth. Ingred 
was at once escorted to the piano, and officious 
hands piled exercise books on a chair to make her 
seat high enough. 

“I can’t remember anything! I can’t in- 
deed!” she protested vigorously. 

“Now don’t twitter nonsense!” said Nora. 
“ I’ve heard you play dozens — yes, dozens ! — 
of things without music at the hostel, so you’ve 
just got to try! ” 

“ I shall break down, I know I shall ! ” 

“ Then you can begin again at the beginning. 
Fire away, and don’t be affected ! ” commanded 
Nora. 

It is one thing to play a piece from memory 
when you have the room to yourself, and quite 
another to play it with half a dozen girls hanging 
over the piano, and the rest of the audience sit- 
ting on their desks. Ingred wisely did not ven- 
ture on anything too classical, but tried a bright 
“ Spanish Ballade,” and managed to get success- 
fully to the end of it without any breakdown. In 
the midst of the clapping that followed came a 
'loud rap-tap-tap at the door, which immediately 
opened to admit — much to the astonishment of 
the Fifth — two of the prefects, and a consign- 
ment of Sixth form girls. 

“ Whatever have we been and gone and done 
now?” murmured Verity. 


The Fifth-form Fete 63 

“Is music taboo? ” asked Ingred guiltily, slip- 
ping away from the piano. 

The errand of the prefects, however, was evi- 
dently one of conciliation, and not of reproof. 
They were smiling, and looking amiability itself. 

“ We thought, as you’ve got a piano in your 
room,” began Lilias Ashby, “ that we might as 
well come and join you, if you don’t mind. 
Janie’s got a book of songs with her.” 

“ Oh, by all means, of course ! ” replied Va. 
politely and unanimously. “ We’re just having a 
sort of concert, you know.” 

“ Sure you don’t mind? ” 

“ Not a bit of it! ” 

“ Right-o ! Run and tell Janie then, Susie, and 
ask her to bring the others.” 

An invasion from the Sixth was indeed an 
unwonted honor, which probably nothing short of 
a piano would have accomplished. The hostesses, 
somewhat overwhelmed, seated the distinguished 
guests to the best of their ability in the rather lim- 
ited accommodation, and hospitably passed round 
their few remaining pieces of chocolate. 

“ We’ll leave the door open, please,” said 
Lispeth, “ because I promised Miss Burd not to 
let those intermediates get too outrageous, and 
I have to listen out for them.” 

Janie Potter, with her book of songs, was 
pushed forward, and began to entertain the com- 


64 A Popular Schoolgirl 

pany with popular selections of the day, to which 
they chanted the choruses. She had a good clear 
voice, and the audience joined with enthusiasm in 
the various ditties. 

The clapping which followed was continued 
down the landing, and, through the open door, 
peered the Interested faces of most of the mem- 
bers of Vb. who had come to share the fun. 

“ May we butt In? ” they asked hopefully. 

“ Not a square inch of room for you,” 
answered Lispeth, “ but you may squat in the cor- 
ridor outside if you like. Anybody who performs 
can join the show, but that’s all. I’ll tell 
you when it’s your turn. It’s Va. next. Now 
then,” (turning to the hostesses), who else can 
do anything? Francie Hall, come along at 
once ! ” 

“I can’t! I can’t!*” objected Francie. “So 
it’s no use asking me ; it Isn’t indeed ! I’ll tell you 
what — Bess Hazelford plays the violin, and, 
what’s more, she’s got it with her, for I saw her 
put it away in the dressing-room.” 

“ O-O-Oh ! It was my lesson with Signor 
Chianti this afternoon, that’s why I had to bring 
it ! ” said Bess, turning red. 

“ Go and fetch it, Francie ! ” ordered Lispeth. 
“ You know where it is.” 

Francie returned in a short time, and handed 
the neat leather case to its owner. Bess, looking 


The Fifth-form Fete 65 

flustered and nervous, drew out the violin, and be- 
gan to tune it. 

“ I’ve brought your music too ! ” said Francie, 
triumphantly opening a folio, “ so you’ve no ex- 
cuse for saying you can’t remember anything. 
Who’ll play your accompaniment? Here, In- 
gred! ” 

“ Oh ! somebody else would do it far better,” 
protested Ingred. “ Janie ” 

“ I’m no reader.” 

“ Lilas?” 

“ Couldn’t to save my life ! ” 

“Go ahead, Ingred, and don’t waste time!” 
said Lispeth firmly. 

Ingred sat down to the piano without a smile. 
Her schoolmates took her unwillingness for mod- 
esty, but in her heart of hearts her main thought 
was : “ Why should I help this new girl to show 

off?” She would have played accompaniments 
gladly for anybody else, but she considered that 
Bess had already received quite enough attention 
in one afternoon. For her own credit, however, 
she must do her best, so she concentrated her ener- 
gies on the prelude. When the first strains of the 
violin joined in, her musical ear recognized im- 
mediately that Bess’s playing was of a very high 
quality. The tone was pure, the notes were per- 
fectly in tune, and there was a ringing sweetness, 
a crisp power of expression, and a haunting pa- 


66 A Popular Schoolgirl 

thos in the rendering of the melody that showed 
the performer to be capable of interpreting the 
composer’s meaning. In spite of her disinclina- 
tion, Ingred warmed to the accompaniment. 
When the violin seemed to be bringing out laugh- 
ter and tears, the piano must do its part, and not 
merely supply a succession of unimpassioned 
chords. Ingred was a good reader for a girl of 
fifteen, but she surpassed herself on this occasion, 
and seemed to accomplish the difficult passages al- 
most by instinct. She played the final notes very 
softly as the last fairy strains of the melody 
thrilled slowly away. 

There was a second of silence, then the girls, 
inside and outside the room, clapped their loudest. 

“ It was capital ! ” declared Lispeth encourag- 
ingly. “ Bess, we shall want you again for school 
concerts. Vou and Ingred ought to practise to- 
gether. . Let me look at your violin. I wish I 
could play like that ! ” 

“ Thanks ever so much ! ” murmured Bess to 
Ingred, as the latter got up from the piano. 

“ Oh ! it’s all right ! ” replied Ingred airily, 
moving away in a hurry to the other side of the 
room. She did not want Bess to take up Lis- 
peth’s no doubt well meant but rather embarrass- 
ing suggestion that they should practise together, 
and was quite ready wish an excuse if it should 
be proposed. 


The Fifth-form Fete 


67 


“ It’s the turn of the Sixth now,” she jodelled. 

“ Vb. haven’t done anything yet; I’ll call one 
of them in,” said Lispeth, stepping out to the land- 
ing. 

Once through the door, however, her ears were 
assailed by such an absolute din proceeding from 
the farther end of the corridor, that she dropped 
her character of impresario for the duties of head- 
girl, and calling two of her fellow prefects, went 
to investigate the cause of the disturbance. She 
returned in a short time, looking flushed and flur- 
ried. 

“ It’s those wretched kids in IVb.,” she pro- 
claimed. “ They were behaving disgracefully, 
pelting each other with the remains of their buns, 
and fencing with rulers. And they actually had 
the cheek to tell me they weren’t making any more 
noise than we were with our singing and playing ! 
I sent them home at once, and I think we’d all 
better go too. Those intermediates always over- 
step the line if they’ve an atom of a chance. I 
told them what I thought about them. It’s been 
quite a ripping concert, and I’m sorry to break it 
up, but you understand, don’t you? ” 

“ Rather! ” replied the others, as they began 
their exodus into the corridor. 


CHAPTER VI 


The School Parliament 

During the excitement of the concert Ingred 
had hardly time to realize the greatness of the 
honor thrust upon her in being chosen as warden 
to represent her form. All it stood for struck 
her afterwards. 

“ My word! You’ll have to sit up and behave 
yourself after this, Madame 1 ” remarked Quen- 
rede, when she mentioned the matter at home. 

“ Yes, of course they’ll all look to you now as 
an example! ” added Mother. 

“ Oh, I don’t think they will ! ” declared In- 
gred, who had not considered her new office from 
that point of view. “ I’ve just to speak up for 
the interests of the form, you know.” 

“ There are obligations as well as interests,” 
said Mother seriously. “ Try to make Va. a use- 
ful factor in the school. That would be some- 
thing worth doing, wouldn’t it? ” 

In arranging for the School Parliament, Miss 
Burd had allowed wardens to be chosen by each 


68 


The School Parliament 


69 


form, from Ills, upwards, but had decided that 
the smaller girls were too young to take part in 
public affairs. Every form that sent a represent- 
ative constituted itself into a kind of club, and 
chose a special name. These were placed on 
the Council Register as follows: 

VI The True Blues. 

Va. The Pioneers. 

Vb. The Amazons. 

IVa. The Old Brigade. 

IVb. The Mermaids. 

llla. The Dragonflies. 

lllb. The Cuckoos. 

“ You can compare marks every fortnight,” 
said Miss Burd, “ and whichever gets the best 
average shall hold a cup that I intend to present. 
The marks of the whole form will count, so that 
slackers will be a distinct drawback to their own 
companies. Any girl who loses a mark hinders 
her form from gaining the cup, and of course vice 
versa, those who work will help.” 

The question of marks had been a much de- 
bated subject with Miss Burd. She had dis- 
cussed it in detail at several educational confer- 
ences, and had come to the conclusion that, on the 
whole, the system was highly desirable. 

“ It’s all very well to talk about the evils of 
emulation, and work for work’s sake,” she con- 
fided to Miss Strong, “ but you can’t get children 


70 A Popular Schoolgirl 

to see things altogether in the same light as 
grown-ups. I own that, when I was a child my- 
self, I made tremendous efforts so that I might 
be head of my form, and when the arrangements 
were changed at our school, and, instead of care- 
fully-registered marks and places, we only had 
first, second, or third class, I slacked off consider- 
ably. I knew that a lesson not quite so perfectly 
learnt, or an exercise with one or two mistakes, 
would still find me in the First Class, so why 
should I make such enormous exertions? When 
every slip might mean the loss of my chance to be 
top, I was far more careful. Of course I know 
that Emulation, with a big E, is supposed to be 
all wrong, but really I think people make too 
much fuss about it. It was quite friendly rivalry 
when I was at school, and the girls with whom I 
competed were my dearest chums. I believe my 
new system here is going to unite both methods. 
Every girl will work for herself, but her marks 
will also count for her form, and if she slacks, 
and so pulls down the standard, I hope her com- 
panions will give her as bad a time as they do to 
a ‘ butter-fingers ’ at cricket, and that’s saying 
something! ” 

The idea of each form constituting a club ap- 
pealed to the school. It was far more interesting 
to be “ Amazons ” or Cuckoos ” than merely 
Vb. or IIIb., and as awards were to be according 


The School Parliament 


71 


to averages, it was thrilling to feel that girls of 
twelve could wrest away the silver cup from the 
hands of the very prefects themselves. 

“ It makes it just like playing a game ! ” de- 
clared Ida Brooke. 

“ Yes, a sort of tug-of-war when everybody’s 
got to pull, and mustn’t let goT” added Cissie 
Barnes, “ Do you remember playing ‘ Oranges 
and Lemons’ once with the Sixth? We all held 
on to each others’ waists like grim death, and Janie 
Potter gave way and broke their chain, so we 
won ! ” 

“ We’ll beat them again, too! I’d like to see 
that cup on our mantelpiece ! ” 

“ The Pioneers,” otherwise Va., were as anx- 
ious as any of the other forms to carry off laurels. 
Even Fil, much under protest, really made quite 
an effort to work. 

“ You ought to help me with my exercises, 
though, Ingred,” she w'heedled. “ Remember, 
it’s for the benefit of the form. If you let me 
make mistakes, well — it’s the form that will suf- 
fer. You can’t call it my fault, it’s on your own 
head. You know as well as I do that I simply 
can’t spell, and it takes me hours to hunt up words 
in the dictionary. I’m looking for ‘ phenomenon ’ 
now.” 

“ You certainly won’t find it in the F’s,” laughed 
Ingred. “ What an infant in arms you are ! 


72 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Here, then, go ahead, and I’ll act as dictionary. 
You’ve only written half a page yet. You’ll be 
a week of Sundays at this rate.” 

“ And I haven’t touched my Latin or French ! ” 
sighed Fil dismally. “ I wish I could go to a 
school where there isn’t any home-work, and that 
somebody would invent a typewriter that would 
just spell the words ready-made when you press 
a button.” 

“ There’s a fortune waiting for the man who 
does ! ” agreed Ingred. “ ‘ The Royal-Road-to- 
Learning Typewriter: spells of itself.’ It would 
sell by the million, I should think. 

Ingred washed her hands, plaited her hair, and 
put on her best brooch and her new bangle to at- 
tend the first meeting of the School Parliament. 
The function was held in the Sixth Form room, 
which she thought slightly unfair, for the pre- 
fects, being on their own ground, felt a distinct ad- 
vantage, and acted as hostesses. There were four 
of them, so with the games captain they made a 
party of five from the Sixth, as opposed to six rep- 
resentatives of lower forms, a quite undue pro- 
portion in the opinion of the younger girls. 
Whatever successes the intermediates might win 
later on, “ The True Blues ” had carried all be- 
fore them so far, and had won the cup by an aver- 
age at least a dozen marks in advance of “ The 
Mermaids,” who came second. The trophy 


The School Parliament 


73 


stood on their mantelpiece, and they had brought 
an ornamental glazed tile on which to place it, 
as if they meant it to stay there. 

On the whole they received the other wardens 
very graciously, and gave them opportunities to 
speak and air their views. Questions such as the 
due apportioning of the asphalt tennis-courts, 
basket-ball and hockey fixtures, and various school 
societies were discussed, and the general business 
of the term got under way. 

“ It helps things to be able to talk it over and 
know what you all think,” said Lispeth. “ We’re 
making so many changes with coming into the new 
building, that it’s almost like an entirely fresh 
start. Miss Burd wants us to get up a sort of 
Reconstruction Society in the school. She hasn’t 
quite planned it out yet, but she told me a little 
about it, and I think it’s ever so nice. As soon as 
it’s quite fixed up, I’m going to call a general 
meeting, and explain it to everybody. I expect 
that will be next Wednesday. Will you give me 
power to do this on my own, or must I call a 
special committee on Monday to discuss it first, 
before I put it to the school? ” 

“ It’s my music lesson on Monday, I couldn’t 
come,” demurred Ingred. 

“ And I have to go to the dentist immediately 
after four,” chimed in Alys Horner, the warden 
of “ The Amazons.” 


74 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ If Miss Burd has arranged it, I suppose it’s 
all serene,” said Mabel Hughes, of “ The Old 
Brigade.” 

“ You’ll like it, I know. I’d explain now, only 
I haven’t got any of the papers, and besides, it 
would take such a long time, and it’s rather late, 
and I want to be getting home. Anyway, I hope 
we shall all take it up hot and strong. Be sure 
to keep Wednesday free, though I’m going to ask 
Miss Burd to let us have the meeting In school 
hours If possible, then we’re absolutely sure of 
everybody.” 

“ Right you are ! ” agreed the wardens, sepa- 
rating in a rather unparliamentary fashion to ad- 
mire a vinaigrette, scented with heliotrope, which 
Althea took from her pocket and handed round for 
appreciative sniffs. 

All the girls felt that Lispeth Scott was to be 
trusted. She was a worthy leader for the new 
order of things. She was a tall, stout, fair girl 
of almost eighteen, and rather grown-up for her 
age. She was the youngest member of a large 
family who had made enormous exertions during 
the war, and, with sisters who had nursed in 
Serbia, driven motor-ambulances in France, served 
in canteens, in Y. M. C. A. huts, and worked at 
munitions, she had excellent examples of what It 
is possible to do for one’s country. She was a 
decided favorite in the College, being athletic as 


The School Parliament 


75 


well as clever, and of a very jolly merry tempera- 
ment with a vein of great earnestness. Though 
the girls sometimes called her “ Jumbo,” they 
meant the nickname in token of friendship, and 
submitted to her dictatorship far more readily 
than they would have done to that of any other 
member of the Sixth who had been put in her 
place. Miss Burd had great confidence in Lis- 
peth, and consequently, when they had talked 
over the matter of the new society which she 
wished to be formed in the school, she decided to 
leave its institution entirely in the hands of her 
head girl. 

“ It will be far better for the mistresses not to 
be present at the meeting,” she said. “ I can 
trust you, Lispeth, to explain things, and the girls 
will like it much more if it seems to emanate from 
the new Council. Talk to them in your own way, 
and they’ll understand you. I want the Society 
to be an absolutely voluntary one, or it’s of no use. 
Don’t let them think they must join merely to 
please me. I’d rather have a dozen who are in 
earnest over it than a hundred half-hearted mem- 
bers. Only those who feel enthusiastic need give 
in their names. I don’t mind if it begins in quite 
a humble way. Indeed, I only expect a small 
membership at first.” 

“ On the contrary. Miss Burd, I think it will 
catch on,” replied Lispeth. 


76 A Popular Schoolgirl 

In consequence of this conversation, the head 
prefect pinned a paper on the notice-board, con- 
vening a general meeting of all girls over twelve 
years of age, to be held in the big hall on Wednes- 
day afternoon at 3 130 sharp, the last lesson of the 
day having been remitted by orders from the 
Study. There was a universal feeling that some- 
thing important was on foot, so those forms that 
were eligible trooped in a body to the hall, while 
the disappointed juniors tried to console them- 
selves with the reflection that they would be able 
to go home half an hour earlier than their elders. 
After considerable shuffling about, places were 
taken. Unwilling to waste further time, Lispeth 
mounted the platform, and rang the bell for si- 
lence. 

“ Are we all here? Well, I can’t wait for any- 
body else. Those who come in late will have to 
hear what they can, and you must tell them the 
rest afterwards. Oh, here they are! Quietly, 
please ! There’s plenty of room over there. 
Violet, will you shut the door? Now that we’re 
all together, I want to have a talk with you. You 
know I’m what may be called ‘ Prime Minister ’ 
of our School Parliament, and, though your war- 
dens will report all we say in council, I think it is 
well to have a public meeting sometimes. This 
term everything seems to have made a fresh start. 
We’re in new buildings, and we have new rules, 


The School Parliament 


77 


and our very Parliament is a new institution. 
You’re all in new forms, and I’m the new Head 
Prefect. It’s not only in school that every- 
thing’s different, but in the outside world as 
well. This is our first term since peace was 
signed. I can remember our first term after 
War was declared. I was only in IIlA, then 
— quite a youngster ! Hetty Hughes, who 
was the head girl, made a speech, and told 
us what we ought to do to try to help our 
country. I think some of us who were here have 
never forgotten that. We nearly hurrahed the 
roof off, and we formed a Knitting Club and a 
Soldiers’ Parcel Society on the spot. You know 
for yourselves how we worked to keep those up. 
Well, to-day the Empire is at peace, but our coun- 
try needs our help as much as ever, or even more. 
It’s making a fresh start, and we want the new 
world to be a better place than the old. Hun- 
dreds of thousands of gallant young lives have 
been gladly given to establish this new world — 
in this school alone we know to our cost — and 
we owe it to our heroic dead not to let their sacri- 
fice be in vain. We want a better and purer Eng- 
land to rise up and make a clean sweep of the bad 
things that disgraced her before. I expect you’ll 
say : ‘ Oh, that’s for politicians, and not for us 

schoolgirls ! ’ but It Isn’t. Popular opinion is a 
mighty thing. The schoolgirls of to-day are the 


78 A Popular Schoolgirl 

women of to-morrow, and the women of a country 
have an enormous amount to' do with the forma- 
tion of public opinion — more nowadays than ever 
before — and their influence will go on increasing 
with every year that passes. If each of us tries 
to help the world instead of hindering it, think 
what an asset each one may be to the country! 
It’s really a tremendous honor to know that we 
can all take our part in the reconstruction of Eng- 
land. It’s like each being allowed to lay a brick 
in the foundation of a new building. Of course 
you’ll ask me: ‘ Well, and how are we going to 
help ? ’ That’s just what I want to talk about. 
We pride ourselves on being practical at the Col- 
lege. Some of us thought we might start a new 
society, to be called ‘ The Rainbow League.’ It’s 
a sort of ‘ Guild of Helpers,’ and we want to do 
all kinds of jolly things to help in the town, some- 
thing like our old ‘ Knitting Club ’ and ‘ Soldiers’ 
Parcel Society,’ only of course different. We 
could give concerts and make clothes for war or- 
phans, and toys for the hospitals, and scrap-books 
for crippled children. There are heaps of nice 
things like that you’ll just love doing. It’s called 
‘ The Rainbow League,’ because a rainbow was 
set in the sky after the Flood, to help people to re- 
member, and we want, in our small way, not to let 
the Great War be forgotten, but to do our bit 
to help with the future of the race. 


The School Parliament 79 

p 

‘‘ Pm not any great hand at speaking or ex- 
plaining, so I want you each to take a copy of the 
rules of ‘ The Rainbow League ’ and to read them 
quietly over at home. Then any girl who likes 
to join can put her name down. All the Sixth 
want to become members, and I hope lots of 
others will too. That’s all I have to say. I’m 
afraid I’m rather a bungler, but you’ll understand 
everything if you read the papers. I’m going to 
give them out now.” 

Lispeth, very red in the face, came down from 
the platform, and, aided by her fellow-prefects, 
began to distribute papers right and left to the 
girls as they filed from the benches. Amongst 
the others, Ingred took hers, and put it in her 
pocket. She did not care to discuss it with the 
crowd, so retired to a corner of the hostel garden, 
and, amid a shower of falling autumn leaves, 
opened the typewritten sheet, and read as follows : 

The Rainbow League 

A Society for Schoolgirls who wish to help in the 

great work of reconstruction after the War 

WHAT THE LEAGUE HOLDS 

That every soul is of infinite and equal value, 
because all are the children of one Father. 

That every girl must do her best to help all 


8o A Popular Schoolgirl 

other girls, and to advance the Sisterhood of 
Women, 

That woman’s greatest and strongest weapons 
are love and sweetness. 

That by conscious radiation of unselfish love 
to her fellow-beings, a girl may undoubtedly raise 
the moral atmosphere of the world around her. 

That every girl, however young, can help this 
glorious old country, and that, joined together 
for good, the schoolgirls of a nation can influence 
the well-being of a race. 

That good can always triumph over evil, and 
that love and unselfishness will wipe out many 
social blots, and put beauty in their place. 

As the rainbow has seven prismatic colors, these 
may stand for seven talents of woman. 

Violet =Virtue — the bed-rock of woman’s 
influence. 

Indigo =Industry — which means willing ser- 
vice. 

Blue =Beauty — in its many and varied 

forms. 

Green =Generosity — to give of our best to 

others. 

Yellow = Youth — to offer our best years to 
God. 

Orange =Order — which includes organization. 
Red = Radiation — the Love Force going 

out to others, 


The School Parliament 


8i 


Fellowship 

Every member of the League shall pledge her- 
self to forward its objects and to take an active 
part in any schemes of help that may be instituted 
in connection with it. 

Flower Emblem. The Iris. 

Motto. “ Freely ye have received, 

freely give.” 

Ingred sat for a moment or two, watching the 
petals blow from the last roses on the bush that 
hung over the worn stone wall. The old Abbey 
lay on one hand, the buildings of the new school 
on the other. They seemed the very personifica- 
tion of ancient and modern. 

“ The world can’t stand still,” she thought, 
“ and if it’s got to move on, I suppose I’d better 
help to give it a shove in the right direction.” 

Walking into the hostel, she met Nora and Fil 
walking arm-in-arm. 

“Hullo, Ingred! Have you read the paper 
about the Rainbow League? ” asked Fil eagerly. 
“ I think it’s ripping! Nora and I are both going 
to join.” 

“ And so am I,” said Ingred, as she passed by 
them, and went upstairs. 


CHAPTER VII 


Hockey 

Ingred signed her name next morning as a mem- 
ber of the Rainbow League, and received a neat 
notebook with a Japanese design of purple irises 
stencilled on the cover. Though the new society 
was supposed to be run entirely by the girls them- 
selves, it was much encouraged at head-quarters, 
and special allowances were made for its activi- 
ties. Miss Burd sent for a book on T oy-making 
at Home, and gave the Handicraft classes an in- 
dulgence to concentrate for the present on the 
construction of little windmills, carts, dolls’ furni- 
ture, trains, jig-saw puzzles, and other articles 
described in its fascinating pages. Such a num- 
ber of girls had joined the League that many 
willing hands were at work, and at Christmas 
they hoped to have a sale of the best of the toys 
in aid of a fund for War Orphans, and to send 
the remainder to be given away as treats for poor 
children. 


83 


Hockey 83 

Lispeth was highly enthusiastic, and full of 
future schemes. 

“ We’ll do toy-making this term,” she decreed, 
“ and then next term we can think of something 
else. In the spring and summer we’ll have a 
Posy Union to send bunches of flowers to sick 
people. We can’t do anything of that, of course, 
during the winter, unless some of you like to put 
down bulbs; it would be lovely to give a pot of 
purple crocuses to a little crippled child ! I think 
making the toys is just Ai. I want to start a 
manufactory ! ” 

“ Barring the glue,” said Susie Wakefield. 
“ It smells simply abominable when it boils over. 
Why doesn’t somebody bring out a patent for 
sweet-scented glue?” 

“Sweet-scented glue! You Sybarite!” 

“Why not? They could make it out of all 
those delicious gums and resins you read about 
in books on the Spice Islands, instead of — by 
the by, what is glue made of? ” 

“ Horses’ hoofs, I believe, but I fancy it’s bet- 
ter not to ask what it’s made of. I don’t think 
your gums and resins would do the deed so well. 
We’d best stick to good old-fashioned glue.” 

“ That’s just what I complained of — \ do stick 
to it, or rather it sticks to me. I get it all over 
my hands, and smears down my overall.” 

“ Then you’re an untidy workwoman, old sport, 


84 A’ Popular Schoolgirl 

and I can’t do anything for you except recom- 
mend ‘ Gresolvent.’ ” 

The girls were grateful for the latitude of the 
Handicraft class, for otherwise they would have 
had little or no time to give to the construction of 
toys. The home-work of the College was stiff, 
and certain games were compulsory. The hockey 
season had begun, and fixtures had been made 
with other schools in the neighborhood. 

“We must see that the old Coll, keeps up its 
reputation,” said Blossom Webster, the games 
captain. “ Last year, when we had Lennie Peters 
and Sophy Aston, we did a thing or two, didn’t 
we? ‘What girl has done, girl can do!’ and 
we’ve just got to buck up and try.” 

“ Rather ! ” agreed the team. 

Among the various matches which had been ar- 
ranged was one with The Clinton High School 
Old Girls’ Association. It was an amateur team 
of enthusiasts, who, debarred from playing any 
longer for their school, had established a club of 
their own. They had sent a challenge to Grove- 
bury College, and it had been accepted. 

“ Saturday morning’s a weird time for a 
match!” said Blossom, re-reading the letter to 
her chums. “ But their captain says it’s the only 
time they can get their field. It’s used by an- 
other club in the afternoons, so she’s fixed eleven 
o’clock.” 


Hockey 85 

“ It suits me rather decently,” said Janie Pot- 
ter. “ I’m going out to tea in the afternoon, so 
I couldn’t have come if the match had been at 
three. Don’t stare at me like that! No I’m 
not a slacker! I must accept invitations to tea 
sometimes, even if I am in the team. What a 
dragon you are. Blossom ! ” 

“ Good thing some one keeps the team up, or 
you’d be gadding off tea-drinking instead of play- 
ing ! ” returned Blossom grimly. “ Grovebury ex- 
pects every girl to do her duty on Saturday. It 
will be bad luck for the season if we lose our first 
match.” 

The Clinton Old Girls’ Association had its field 
at Denscourt, a town ten miles away from Grove- 
bury. It was arranged by the team, and for any 
girls from the college who cared to come as spec- 
tators, to meet at the railway station at 10:15, 
and travel together under the escort of Miss 
Giles. 

Ingred, who was a keen player, and very proud 
of having been placed in the reserve, was to spend 
Friday night at the hostel, instead of returning 
as usual to Wynch-on-the-Wold. 

Nora, Verity, and Fil were also to be numbered 
among the spectators. 

On the eventful morning, as the girls were just 
finishing breakfast, a telegram arrived for Rachel 
Grant. She tore open the yellow envelope, and 


86 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

her face fell as she read the brief message. Her 
mother was seriously ill, and she must return home 
immediately. Mrs. Best went upstairs at once 
to arrange for her hurried journey, and to help 
her to pack. 

Downstairs at the breakfast-table the girls dis- 
cussed the bad news. They were very sorry for 
Rachel, and also for themselves, for she was their 
right inner. 

“ It’s like our luck! ” fretted Janie Potter. 

“ Too disgusting for words! ” groused Doreen 
Hayward. 

“ Poor old Rachel ! ” groaned Fil. 

“ What’s going to be done? ” asked everybody, 
as they folded their serviettes and left the table. 

That question was answered by Miss Giles, 
who beckoned to Ingred in the hall, and said 
briefly : 

“ Ingred, will you fetch your hockey-stick and 
pads?” 

Ingred did not need telling twice. To take 
Rachel’s place was indeed an honor. Such a 
chance did not come often. With huge satisfac- 
tion she donned her neat navy-blue skirt, edged 
with its orange band, and her blouse with its 
orange collar and cuffs. 

“ You lucker! ” sighed Nora enviously. “ I’d 
just jolly well give everything I have to be in 
the match to-day. It’s not much sport to stand 


Hockey 87 

by and cheer. Oh, don’t think I’m trying to get 
out of coming! I’m going to look on and see 
that you do your duty. If you’re not playing 
up, I’ll hiss! ” 

‘‘ I’ll do my best,” laughed Ingred, “ and if I 
drop down for sheer lack of breath, I shall expect 
you and Verity to carry me home. There! ” 

“ Right you are ! It’s a bargain, though you’d 
be a jolly heavy burden, I can tell you.” 

The team. Miss Giles, and about twenty girls 
as spectators, were punctual to their appointment, 
and assembled at the station just in time for the 
train. By a little manoeuvring, combined with 
good fortune, they secured three compartments to 
themselves, for a solitary old gentleman, whom 
they found in possession of a corner seat, bolted 
in alarm at such an invasion of schoolgirls, and 
sought sanctuary in a smoking carriage. Some 
generous spirits had brought chocolates and but- 
ter-scotch, which they shared round, and Nora, 
the irrepressible, produced from her pocket a 
mouth-organ, with which she proceeded to enter- 
tain the company, until frantic raps from the next 
compartment made her aware that Miss Giles 
heard and disapproved of her amateur recital. 
Naturally the talk was largely about hockey and 
the chances of the match. It was known that the 
Old Clintonians were a strong team, for most of 
them had been the crack players of their school. 


88 A Popular Schoolgirl 

To beat them would indeed be a feather in the 
cap of the college. 

“ Too good to come off ! ” groaned Blossom 
gloomily. 

“Nonsense, you can’t tell till you’ve tried! 
Make up your mind you’re going to win! ” said 
Nora indignantly. “ I shan’t speak to you again 
if you lose this match ! ” 

“ I’m only one out of eleven, please! ” 

“ Well, I don’t care! One who makes up her 
mind to fail can spoil everything, and vice-versa, 
so just buck up and win! ” 

The hockey ground was not very far from the 
station at Denscourt, and when the Grovebury 
contingent arrived they found the Old Clintoni- 
ans ready and waiting for them. The eleven ran 
into the pavilion and took off the long coats that 
had covered their gym costumes; then trooped out 
on to the field, as neat and business-like looking a 
team as could be imagined. Blossom, with her 
chums, Janie and Doreen, took good stock of their 
opponents. 

“ They’re a strong set, and will take some beat- 
ing,” said Janie. 

“Rather!” agreed Blossom. “You may be 
sure we’re not going to goal just when we please.” 

“ They look topping sports ! ” commented 
Doreen. 

Everything was now in perfect order ; the teams 


Hockey 89 

were placed, and the umpire blew her whistle for 
the match to begin. As the account of such a 
contest is always much more interesting when 
narrated by an actual spectator, and as Nora 
wrote a long and accurate description of it after- 
wards to a cousin at school in London, I will 
insert her letter, and allow it to speak for itself. 

( This letter is an account of a real match, writ- 
ten by a real schoolgirl.) 

“ Grovebury College. 

“ My Dear Margaret, 

“ I simply must tell you about the hockey match 
we played last Saturday! 

“ The team played the Clinton High School 
Old Girls’ Association at Denscourt. Our girls 
were awfully keen to meet them, and were not at 
all daunted by the fact that they were exception- 
ally strong. 

“ About twenty of us went as spectators, and 
as we were about to set off to the station with the 
Eleven, Rachel Grant, the Left Inner, received a 
telegram, conveying news of her mother’s serious 
illness. To our great misfortune, she was obliged 
to go home at once, and the first girl on the Re- 
serve, Ingred Saxon, had to fill her place. 

“ Miss Giles, the Games Mistress, went on to 
get the tickets, and, in spite of some delay, we 
managed to meet her in time to catch the train. 


90 A Popular Schoolgirl 

It is ten miles from here to Denscourt, and we 
arrived there in about twenty minutes. 

“ The field is not very far from the railway 
station. The team girls were taken to the pavil- 
ion, and when they were ready, the captain tossed 
up. Veronica Hall, the opposing captain, who is 
a tall strong girl, and a fine hockey player, won 
the toss, and chose to play against the wind for the 
first half. At exactly eleven, the center forwards. 
Blossom and Veronica, began the bully-off. There 
were three dull clashes as their sticks met, and 
then with a dexterous stroke. Blossom passed the 
ball to her Right Inner, Janie Potter. Before 
she could strike, the wing on the opposite side 
captured the ball, and with a clean drive sent it 
spinning down the field. It was soon stopped, 
however, by Doreen Hayward, the Right Half, 
who, after successfully dribbling it past the enemy 
Inner, sent it hard out to Aline West, the School 
Right Wing. Soon Aline had the ball half-way 
up the field, but suddenly she stumbled, and fell 
headlong to the ground. Before she could rise, 
the ball had been sent to the rival Center For- 
ward, who, with a magnificent hit, drove it nearly 
into the goal-circle. There it was splendidly 
blocked by Kitty Saunders, our Left Back, and 
quickly passed to Evie Irving, the Left Wing. 
There was a brief, though fierce, struggle for 
possession of the ball between the two wings^ in 


Hockey 9^ 

which Evie was victorious. She neatly avoided 
the Clinton Right Half, but the ball went off the 
line. The opposing Half-back rolled in — to her 
wing, as she thought — but with a swift move- 
ment, Ingred Saxon, the Left Inner, reached the 
ball first, and taking it with her, ran up the field 
like lightning. The Inner on the other side was 
an equally fast runner, but Ingred easily evaded 
her opponent’s continued efforts to get the ball 
for some time. 

“ ‘ Oh! has she lost the ball? ’ ‘No. Is she 
still flying on, the ball before her?’ ‘Will she 
pass the rival back safely?’ were the questions 
which thronged my brain, nearly paralyzed with 
excitement- 

“ Not able to dribble the ball any farther, and 
being attacked by a girl wearing the Clinton 
colors, Ingred hit the ball out to her wing, who 
struck in to center again. The Left Back on the 
opposing side stopped it just as it entered the goal- 
circle. 

“ ‘ Clear ! ’ yelled one of the onlookers, unable 
to contain herself, and with a fine stroke the 
Back sent the ball flying away to the other side 
of the field. It went with such force that, al- 
though our Right Back made an attempt to stop 
it, it raced past her stick and over the outside 
line. After the roll-in, nearly all the play was 
carried on practically in the center of the field. 


9^ A Popular Schoolgirl 

Each side displayed some excellent passing, but 
when the whistle blew at half time, neither had 
scored. By this time all thtj girls were hot and 
panting, except the Goal-keepers, and were ready 
for the brief rest. Our Eleven stood in a group 
together, sharing the lemons which the Clinton 
girls provided, and discussing the events of the 
last half-hour. 

“ ‘ Girls ! ’ exclaimed Blossom, our captain 
‘ we simply must win this match ! We shall have 
the wind against us the next half, but we are not 
going to let things end in a victory for the Clin- 
tonians, or in a draw either, are we? ’ 

“ ‘ No ! ’ was the decided answer. 

“ A few minutes later every one was in her 
place again, but of course defending the other 
goal. Blossom and Veronica were once more 
bullying-off. This time the latter was the quicker 
of the two, for, with a clever hit, she succeeded in 
sending the ball away to her Left Wing. The 
Clinton Left Wing began to dribble it along to- 
wards the goal we were defending, and, when 
confronted by our Right Half, passed it to her 
center. I almost screamed out to our Center 
Forward not to let Veronica keep the ball, for I 
knew she was a dangerous opponent. She was 
well up the field, and with a neat turn of her stick 
sent the ball past our Right Back. There was 
only one girl now to prevent her from getting a 


Hockey 93 

goal! Blossom was now fast gaining, and then, 
just as Veronica came within shooting distance, 
her foot slipped in the slimy mud, and she lost 
her balance. Blossom was level with Veronica by 
this time, and before the Clinton captain could 
steady herself, she had sent the ball far away 
from the danger zone. 

“ The play went on fairly evenly again until 
five minutes to twelve. I felt wild with anxiety, 
and I am sure the others did too, for there were 
only five minutes left. 

“ The ball had just been sent over the line 
by one of the Clinton girls, and our Left Half 
rolled in. The wing missed the bill, but Ingred 
took it, and — well, I cannot tell you clearly what 
happened after that. I still have in my mind the 
picture of Ingred, who, the ball at her side, liter- 
ally flew up the field, her feet scarcely touching 
the ground. No one knows how she did it, but 
by some marvellous playing she passed all her 
opponents, and shot the only goal of the whole 
match just three seconds before the whistle blew 
for ‘ Time.’ 

“ Of course Ingred was the heroine of the hour. 
As she was being escorted to the pavilion, flushed 
but triumphant. Miss Giles said to her: ‘Well 
played ! I am proud of you ! ’ 

“ Those few words of praise meant a good deal 
to Ingred, and we all felt how well she deserved 


94 A Popular Schoolgirl 

them, especially as It was only by accident that 
she played in the team at all. 

“ I do hope I have not tired you by going too 
fully into our match, but I know you are inter- 
ested in our school games, hockey in particular. 
I will tell you about our later fixtures when I see 
you at Christmas, so until then — Good-bye. 

“ With love from your affectionate cousin, 

“ Nora Clifford.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


An Unpleasant Experience 

The girls filed out from the hockey ground as 
speedily as possible. There was a train due from 
Grovebury in about a quarter of an hour. They 
walked to the station in groups, discussing details 
of the match as they went. Ingred, Beatrice, and 
Verity happened to be blocked at the exit by the 
Clintonian team, and were obliged to wait some 
minutes before they could pass, and when at last 
they were through the gate, all their own school- 
fellows were disappearing up the road. 

“ We needn’t run after them — I believe we’ve 
plenty of time,” said Verity. “ We can almost 
see the station from here. I say, aren’t you fear- 
fully hungry? I’m literally starving. Let’s find 
a confectioner’s and each buy a bun before we 
go.” 

Both Beatrice and Ingred felt that they re- 
quired fortifying before they started for home, 
so they dived into the nearest pastry-cook’s and 
demanded buns. They were eating them rather 


96 A Popular Schoolgirl 

hastily, when Linda Slater entered the shop in 
company with a gentleman, evidently her father. 
She hailed her class-mates, and at once began to 
talk over the match and rejoice at the school 
victory. 

“Who says we’re no good at games now? 
This has sent up our credit ten per cent! I’m 
proud of the Coll. I ” 

“ Blossom was Ai.” exulted Verity. 

“ And Janie was simply ripping. Dad thought 
no end of her. Didn’t you. Dad? ” 

“ Well, I’m glad we made something of a rec- 
ord,” admitted Ingred. 

“ I say,” declared Beatrice, hastily finishing 
her bun, “ if that clock’s right, we must bolt for 
our train.” 

“ As a matter of fact, it’s one minute slow,” 
exclaimed Linda, consulting her watch. “ You’ll 
have to sprint.” 

“ Aren’t you coming? ” 

“ No, we have our car here. It’s outside.” 

“ Those girls will hardly catch their train,” re- 
marked Mr. Slater to Linda, as the three 
went to the pay desk to settle for their buns. 
“ Couldn’t we stow them into the car, and take 
them along with us? ” 

“Oh, no, Dad!” frowned Linda. “There 
really isn’t room. You promised you’d call at 
Brantbury and bring Gerald and Eustace back 


An Unpleasant Experience 97 

for the afternoon. We couldn’t cram them all 
in the car ! ” 

“ There isn’t time for them to get the train.” 

“Oh, yes! You don’t know how they can 
run ! ” 

Quite unaware of the kindly offer which had 
been rejected on their behalf, Beatrice, Verity, 
and Ingred fled from the shop, and hurried with 
all possible speed in the direction of the railway 
station. They could see the train coming along 
the top of the embankment, and it had drawn up 
at the platform before they reached the passenger 
entrance. They were not the only late comers. 
It was Saturday, and a crowd of work people 
from various factories near were returning to 
Grovebury. 

In company with a very mixed and motley crew 
they pushed their way up the long flight of steps. 
A collector stood at the top, and just as they were 
nearing their goal, he slammed the gate and re- 
fused further admission to the platform. They 
could hear the whistle, and the general bumping 
of chains that betokened the starting of the car- 
riages. They were exactly half a minute too 
late ! When the train was well out of the sta- 
tion, the collector once more opened his barrier, 
and the crowd surged on. The three girls, who 
disliked pushing among a rough assembly, stood 
on one side to let the people pass by. There 


98 A Popular Schoolgirl 

was no hurry now, and no object to be gained 
by forcing their way ahead. Last of all, there- 
fore, they presented themselves at the gate. 

“ Tickets, please ! ” repeated the collector au- 
tomatically. 

All three felt in their pockets, but felt in vain. 
Return tickets and purses were alike missing, and 
even penknives and handkerchiefs had vanished. 
Ingred’s pocket, indeed, was neatly turned inside 
out. Here was a dilemma ! They had evidently 
been robbed on the stairs by a professional thief, 
who had appropriated all their portable belong- 
ings. In utter consternation they looked at one 
another. 

“ We’ve lost our tickets ! ” faltered Beatrice. 

“ They’ve been stolen ! ” added Ingred. 

“ Do please let us through ! ” entreated Verity. 

In ordinary circumstances the collector would 
no doubt have listened to the girl’s story, and 
taken them to interview the station-master, but 
to-day he had to do double duty, and could scarcely 
cope with the extra work. He had to deal with 
crowds, and to keep a sharp eye to see that no 
one defrauded the railway company by travelling 
without paying the fare. A train was due at the 
next moment on the other side of the platform, 
and his services were urgently required at the 
opposite exit. 

“ Haven’t you got your tickets? ” he demanded 


An Unpleasant Experience 99 

curtly. “ Then I must close the gate. No one’s 
allowed on the platform without tickets.” 

The advancing train whistled as it ran through 
the cutting, and, disregarding the girls’ remon- 
strances, the official locked the barrier. He 
bolted across the line in front of the engine, just 
in time to take his place at the other gateway 
before the rush of passengers began, and prob- 
ably never gave another thought to the three 
whom he had just excluded. Left shut out on 
the top of the station steps, the unlucky trio rue- 
fully reviewed the situation. 

“What are we to do?” demanded Ingred 
breathlessly. 

“ Goodness only knows 1 ” sighed Verity. 

“We’re in a very awkward fix!” admitted 
Beatrice. 

They were much too far from Grovebury to 
make walking possible. 

“ I wonder Miss Giles didn’t miss us ! ” fretted 
Verity, trying to throw the blame on somebody. 

“ It isn’t her fault — fair play to her! ” urged 
Beatrice. “ She wasn’t looking after us officially 
to-day, you know. On Saturdays we’re supposed 
to be on our own.” 

“ I lay the blame on buns ! ” said Ingred. 
“ We’d have kept with the rest of the school if 
we hadn’t stopped at that confectioner’s.” 

“ Well, it’s no use crying over spilt milk now! 


100 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

What we’ve got to do is to find some means of 
getting home. We can’t stay here all day.” 

“ I believe it’s not very far to Waverley from 
Denscourt,” ventured Beatrice. “ If we can man- 
age to walk, I know some people who live at a 
house there. I’d ask them to lend us our fares, 
and we could catch a train at Waverley station.” 

The idea seemed feasible, and, as it was the 
only one that suggested itself, they unanimously 
decided to adopt it. They walked down the steps 
again, therefore, on to the high road, and, stop- 
ping a girl who was passing, asked the way to 
Waverley. 

“ It’s a good four miles by the road, but it’s 
only about two by the fields,” she volunteered in 
reply. “ I think you’d find the path. You go 
down the road to the right, and turn through the 
first gate across a field to a farm. Then you 
keep along the river bank, on the left. You can’t 
miss it.” 

To save two miles in their present predicament 
was a matter of importance, and they all felt 
that they would greatly prefer walking through 
fields to tramping along a dusty high road. 
Thanking their informant, they took her advice, 
and set off in the direction which she indicated. 
After all, the affair was rather an adventure. 

“ The Mortons are sure to offer us lunch when 
we get there,” affirmed Beatrice; “ of course we 


lOI 


An Unpleasant Experience 

shall be fearfully late home, and our people will 
be getting very anxious about us, but we can’t 
help that. I was to have gone to a matinee of 
Carmen this afternoon, but it’s off, naturally! I 
expect Doris will use my ticket, ^vhen I don’t turn 
up.” 

“ I meant to wash our dog when I got back! ” 
laughed Ingred. “ He’ll have to look dirty on 
Sunday, now.” 

‘‘And I meant to do a hundred things; but 
what’s the use of talking about them now? ” 
groaned Verity. “ Here’s our farm, and that ap- 
pears to be the river over there. Didn’t that 
girl say : ‘ Keep along to the left ’ ? Perhaps we’d 
better ask again.” 

They verified their Instructions from a boy who 
was standing in the farmyard, whittling a stick, 
and trudged away over a stubble field and through 
a turnstile gate. It was quite pretty along the 
path by the river. There was a tall hedge where 
hips and haws showed red, and a grassy border 
where a few wild flowers still bloomed. The sun 
shed a soft golden autumnal haze over the fields 
and bushes and the lines of yellow trees. 

The girls rather enjoyed themselves; it was an 
unexpected country excursion, and had all the 
charm of novelty. They walked about half a 
mile, chatting about school matters as they went, 
then suddenly they were confronted by an alterna- 


102 A Popular Schoolgirl 

tive, A bridge spanned the river, and the broad, 
well-trodden path along which they had come 
turned over the bridge. There was indeed a 
track that continued along the left bank, but it 
was over-grown, and looked little used. Which 
were they to take? 

That was a question which required discussion. 
“ The girl said : ‘ keep along the river bank on 
the left,’ ” urged Ingred. 

“ Yet the path so plainly goes across here,” de- 
murred Verity. 

“ That’s certainly the left bank, but that way 
looks as if it led to nowhere,” vacillated Beatrice. 
“ Can’t we ask anybody? ” 

“ There isn’t a soul in sight.” 

“ Isn’t there a signpost? ” 

“ Nothing of the sort.” 

“ Then which way shall we go? ” 

“ Better take votes on it.” 

“ Right-o ! I’m for ‘ bypath meadow.’ ” 

“ And I’m for the ‘ king’s highway.’ ” 

“ So am I, so we’re two to one ! ” 

“ I’ll give in, then,” said Ingred, “ only I’ve a 
sort of feeling we’re going wrong, all the same ! ” 
The new path led along the opposite bank, and 
was very much a replica of the former. It ran 
on and on for what seemed quite a long distance, 
but they met nobody from whom they could in- 
quire the way. For nearly a quarter of a mile 


An Unpleasant Experience 103 

a belt of trees obscured the view, and when at 
last the prospect could once more be seen, Beatrice 
stopped short with a groan of despair. On the 
other side of the water was the unmistakable spire 
of Waverley "hurch. 

“We’ve coi’ie wrong, after all! ” 

“ Oh, good aight ! So we have I ” 

“ What an absolute swindle I ” 

The girls w cekainly not in luck that day. 
They had missed their path as effectually as they 
had missed their train. ^ The chimneys of Waver- 
ley were in sight, but separated from them by a 
wide stream, and’ unless they were prepared to 
wade, swim, or fly, there was no way of reaching 
the village. 

“ There’s nothing for it but to turn back! ” 

“ Why, but that’s miles ! ” 

“ Are you sure it’s Waverley over there? Can 
we ask anybody? ” 

“ No one to ask, worse luck! ” 

“Yes, there is! I can see some people com- 
ing along in a boat.” 

Rendered desperate by the emergency, Ingred 
struggled through the reeds to the very edge of 
the river, and lifted up her voice in an agonized 
cry of “ Help!” 

A punt was drifting slowly with the current, 
and its occupants, a lady and gentleman, looked 
with surprise at the agitated girl who was hailing 


ic>4 A Popular Schoolgirl 

them from the bank. The gentleman at oiice pad- 
died in her direction, and, running his litde craft 
among the reeds, inquired what was the tnatter. 

“Oh, please, is that Waverley o'er there?” 
asked Ingred anxiously. “ We’ve .ost our way, 
and we’ve walked miles! Is th,re any bridge 
near?” 

“ That’s certainly Waverley, ^ut there’s no 
bridge till you come to one a mile ind a half down 
stream.” 

Ingred’s face was tragic. She turned to Bea- 
trice and Verity, who had joined her. 

“ It’s no use ! We shall have to go back! ” 

But the lady was whispering something to the 
gentleman, and he beckoned to the girls with a 
smile. 

“Don’t run away!” he said. “Look here, 
we’ll punt you across if you like.” 

“ Like ! ” The girls hardly knew how to ex- 
press their gratitude. 

“ The three of you’d be too heavy a load. I 
think I’d better take just one at a time. Can you 
manage to get in? It’s rather swampy here. 
Give me your hand ! ” 

Ingred splashed ankle deep in oozy mud as she 
scrambled on board, but that was a trifle com- 
pared with the relief of being ferried over the 
river. Her knight-errant was neither young nor 
handsome, being, indeed, rather bald and stoutj 



D46 


A FRIEND IN NEED 





An Unpleasant Experience 105 

but no orthodox interesting hero of fiction could 
have been more welcome at the moment. She 
tendered her utmost thanks she landed, again 
with damage to her shoes, on the rushy bank op-: 
posite. Their friends in need, having success- 
fully punted over Beatrice and Verity also, bade 
them a laughing good-bye, and resumed their easy 
course down stream, leaving three very grateful 
girls behind them. 

“That’s helped us out of a fix! Don’t say 
again we’ve no luck! ” cried Beatrice, wiping her 
boots carefully on the grass. 

“They were angels in disguise!” sighed In- 
gred. 

“Rather stout angels!” chuckles Verity. 
“ Now, how are we going to get out of this 
field?” 

“ Over the hedge, I suppose. There’s a piece 
of fence that looks cllmbable ! ” returned Beatrice, 
swinging herself up with elephantine grace, and 
dropping with a heavy thud on the other side. 
“ Oh! good biz! We’re on a cinder path! ” 

They were indeed In a back lane which led at 
the bottom of some gardens, then behind a row 
of stables, and finally through a gate on to the 
high road. 

“ I know where we are now! ” exclaimed Bea- 
trice gleefully. “ It’s only quite a short way to 
the Morton’s. They live in the next terrace but 


io6 A Popular Schoolgirl 

two. I believe we’re within measurable distance 
of some lunch.” 

This was such good news that they strode along 
in renewed spirits. Considering all, they thought 
the adventure was turning out well. A meal 
would undoubtedly be most acceptable, if Bea- 
trice’s friends were hospitable enough to offer it. 

“ It’s the fourth house,” said Beatrice, “ the 
one with the copper beech over the gate. Linden 
Lea — yes, here we are ! Oh, I say, what are all 
the blinds down for? ” 

The girls faced each other blankly. 

“Is anyone dead?” faltered Ingred. 

“ I’ll ring and inquire, at any rate,” murmured 
Beatrice. 

So she rang, and rang again and yet again. 
She could hear the bell clanging quite plainly and 
unmistakably somewhere in the back regions, yet 
nobody came to the door. 

“ It’s funny ! I don’t hear anybody in the 
house either,” she remarked. “ Their dog gen- 
erally barks at the least sound.” 

At that moment a small face peeped over the 
top of the wall which divided the garden from 
that of the next house, and a childish voice asked: 

“ Do you want the Mortons? ” 

“Yes. Isn’t anybody in ? ” 

“ They’re all gone away to Llandudno, for a 
month.” 


An Unpleasant Experience 107 

“All? Isn’t anyone here?” 

“ No, the house is locked up.” 

Here a warning call of “ Willie! ” caused their 
informant to disappear as suddenly as he had 
come, but the girls had heard enough. All their 
hopes were suddenly blighted. They had ar- 
rived at the end of their journey only to draw a 
blank. They were indeed in a worse position 
than when they had missed the train at Dens- 
court, for they were farther from home, and it 
was much later. Almost ready to cry, they 
turned down the garden again. 

“We’ve got to get home to-night somehow! ” 
said Ingred through her set teeth. 

“ Shall we go to the police station? ” quavered 
Verity. 

“And give ourselves up like lost children? 
No, it’s too undignified! Wait a moment, I’ve 
got an idea!” said Beatrice. “We passed the 
post office just now, and I noticed it had a ‘ Public 
Telephone.’ I’ll ring up Mother and tell her 
where we are, and ask her to come over for us.” 

“ But you can’t telephone for nothing, and we 
haven’t so much as a solitary penny amongst us ! ” 

“ I know. I thought I’d explain that to the 
people at the post office, and ask them to let me 
have the call, and Mother will pay when sihe 
comes. I could give them my watch as a secu- 
rity.” 


io8 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ It’s worth trying! ” 

So, with just a little grain of hope, they re- 
traced their steps to the post olBce, which was also 
a stationer’s and newsagent’s. Nobody was in 
the shop, but when the girls thumped on the 
counter a rosy-cheeked young person appeared 
from the back regions. 

“ Want to telephone without paying? It’s 
against the post office rules,” she snapped, as Bea- 
trice briefly explained the circumstances. 

“ My mother will pay when she comes, and if 
you’d take my watch ” 

“ I can’t go against post office rules 1 All calls 
must be paid for beforehand. That’s our in- 
structions.” 

“ But just for once ” 

“What’s the matter, Doris?” asked a voice, 
and a kindly-looking little man emerged from the 
back parlor, wiping his mouth hastily, and took 
his place behind the counter. Beatrice turned {o 
him with eagerness, and again stated the urgency 
of their peculiar situation. 

“ Well, of course we’ve our instructions from 
the post office, and we’ve got to account for the 
calls, but in this particular case we might let you 
have one, and pay afterwards,”‘he replied. “ Oh, 
never mind the watch; it’s all right! ” 

Beatrice lost no time in ringing up Number 167 
Grovebury, and to her immense delight, when she 


An Unpleasant Experience io9 

got the connection, she heard her mother’s voice 
at the instrument. A short explanation was all 
that was necessary. 

“ Stay where you are at the Waverley post 
office, and I will get a taxi and fetch you myself 
immediately,” returned Mrs. Jackson. “ It’s the 
greatest relief to know what has become of you. 
I was going to ring up the police station, and 
describe you as ‘ missing ! ’ ” 

The girls had to wait nearly three-quarters of 
an hour before the taxi made its appearance, and 
the welcome form of Mrs. Jackson stepped out 
of it. She paid what was owing for the call, 
thanked the postmaster for his civility, and 
hustled the girls into the conveyance as quickly as 
possible. 

“ I suppose girls will be girls,” she said, ” but I 
think you’ve been very silly ones to-day! Why 
didn’t you keep with the rest of the school, as you 
ought to have done ? ” 

“ It sounds a most horrible greedy confession,” 
replied Beatrice guiltily, “ but I’m afraid it was 
all the fault of — buns ! They just threw us late, 
and we missed the others. We’ll never buy buns 
again! Never! Never! O peccavi! We have 
sinned! ” 

And she looked so humorously contrite that 
Mrs. Jackson, who was inclined to scold, laughed 
in spite of herself, and forgave the delinquents. 


no A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ On condition that such a thing doesn’t happen 
again ! ” she declared. 

“ Trust us! We wouldn’t go through such an 
experience again for all the buns in the world! 
Next time we’ll cling to the College apron strings 
like — like ” 

“ Like adhesive sticking-plaster ! ” supplied In- 
gred gently. 

“ Or oysters to a mermaid’s tail ! ” murmured 
Verity. 


CHAPTER IX 


A Hostel Frolic 

“ The Foursome League,” which Verity had 
instituted with her room-mates at the hostel, was 
kept by them as a solemn compact. They stuck 
to one another nobly, though often in the teeth of 
great inconvenience. It generally took three of 
them to urge Fil through her toilet in the morn- 
ings and drag her down to breakfast in time. 
She was always so terribly sleepy at seven o’clock, 
and so positive that she could whisk through her 
dressing in ten minutes, and that it was quite un- 
necessary to get up so soon : even when the others 
mercilessly pulled the bed-clothes from her, and 
pointed to their watches, she would dawdle in- 
stead of “ whisking,” and spend much superfluous 
time over manicure or dabbing on cucumber cream 
to improve her complexion. She was so innocent 
about her little vanities, and conducted them with 
such child-like complacency, that the girls tolerated 
them quite good humoredly, and even assisted 
sometimes. One of them generally volunteered 
to brush her long flaxen hair, and tie her ribbon, 
111 


1 12 A Popular Schoolgirl 

and half out of habit the others would tidy her 
cubicle, which was apt to be chaotic, and put her 
things away in her drawers. They did it almost 
automatically, for they had come to look upon 
Fil somewhat in the light of a big doll, the ex- 
clusive property of “ The Foursome League,” 
and to be treated as the mascot of the dormitory. 

Mrs. Best, the hostel matron, was what the girls 
called “ rather an old dear.” Her gray hair was 
picturesque, and the knowledge that she had lost 
her husband and a son in the war added an ele- 
ment of pathetic interest to her personality. She 
was experienced in the ways of girls, and con- 
trived to keep order without seeming to be con- 
stantly obtruding rules. Among her various sane 
practices she instituted the plan of awarding marks 
for good conduct and order to each dormitory, 
and allowing the one which scored the highest to 
give an entertainment to the others during the last 
hour before bed-time on Thursday night. 
Naturally this was a privilege to be desired. It 
was fun to act variety artistes before the rest of 
the hostel, and well worth being in time for meals, 
preserving silence during prep., or getting up a 
little earlier so as to leave cubicles in apple-pie 
order. The Foursome League had not yet 
earned distinction, chiefly owing to lapses on the 
part of Fil, and Nora’s incorrigible love of talk- 
ing in season and out of season. One week, how- 


A Hostel Frolic 


113 

ever, after a really heroic series of efforts, they 
succeeded in establishing a record, and sat perk- 
ing themselves at dinner-time when Mrs. Best 
read out the score. 

“ We’ve not had you on the boards before,” 
said Susie Wakefield, one of the Sixth, as the girls 
filed from the room when the meal was over; 
“ we’re all expecting something extra tiptop and 
thrillsome, so play up ! ” 

“Hope we shan’t let you downl” replied 
Ingred. “ Please don’t expect too much, or 
you mayn’t get it! ” 

Dormitory 2 held a hurried conclave before 
afternoon school. 

“ It’s a great stunt ! ” rejoiced Nora. 

“ What are we. to act? ” fluttered Fil. 

“ Especially when we’ve to play up ! ” twittered 
Verity. 

“ What silly idiots we were not to plan it all 
out beforehand ! But I really never dreamt we’d 
ever get the chance 1 ” 

“ No more did I,” said Ingred, sitting with her 
head in her hands, considering. “ On the whole, 
it doesn’t matter. Sometimes a quite impromptu 
thing goes off best. It’s largely a question 
of what costumes we can rake up out of 
nothing. 

The cleverer those are, the more we’ll get ap- 
plauded. I’ve one or two ideas simmering. 


1 14 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Thank goodness it’s drawing this afternoon, and 
I shall have time to think them over.” 

“We’ll all think!” agreed Verity. “Then 
we’ll compare notes at four o’clock, and fix on 
what we’re going to do. Great Minerva! It’ll 
be a hectic evening ! I’m shivering in my shoes ! ” 

“And I’m absolutely green with stage-fright! 
What a life ! ” proclaimed Fil. 

If Miss Godwin, the drawing-mistress, noticed a 
slacking off in accuracy on the part of four of her 
pupils that afternoon, she perhaps set it down to 
want of artistic feeling. It is difficult to copy 
with absolute exactness when only your fingers are 
busy, and your brain is far away. Ingred planned 
enough entertainments to supply a Pierrot troupe 
for a month, but abandoned most of them as be- 
ing quite impossible to act with the very limited 
resources that were available at the hostel. At a 
select Foursome Committee after school, however, 
she presented the pick of the performances, and 
as nobody else had thought of anything better, or 
indeed quite so good, her suggestions, with a few 
amendments and alterations, were carried unani- 
mously. 

At eight o’clock that evening, when preparation 
was finished, the boarders’ room was rapidly 
transformed into an amateur theater. The trestle 
tables were carried to one end to form the gallery, 
rows of chairs represented the dress circle, and 


A Hostel Frolic 


115 

cushions in front either the pit or the stalls, ac- 
cording to individual taste, or, as Mrs. Best said, 
the behavior of the occupants. 

There was no curtain, but, as the scenery pre- 
served Shakespearian methods of simplicity, that 
did not matter. Part of the charm of these 
Thursday night entertainments was their abso- 
lutely spontaneous character, and the fact that 
many details had to be left to the imagination of 
the spectators only made things more amusing. 

When the audience, after a slight struggle for 
gallery seats, had settled itself, and Mrs. Best 
and Nurse Warner had taken possession of the 
arm-chairs specially reserved for them, Dollie 
Ransome, who had been requisitioned by the per- 
formers to act as Greek chorus, placed some stools 
by the fire-place, and announced importantly: 

“ King Alfred and the Cakes. A Historical 
Drama.” 

The little old woman who entered, carrying 
some sticks and a basin, was difficult to identify 
as Fil. Her fair hair had been powdered, 
wrinkles were painted on her smooth forehead, 
a handkerchief was knotted on her head for a cap, 
and she wore an apron borrowed from the cook, 
and a check table-cover arranged as a shawl. She 
bestowed the sticks in the fender to represent a 
fire on the hearth, and taking some biscuits from 
her basin, placed them amongst the supposed 


ii6 A Popular Schoolgirl 

embers, indulging meanwhile in a soliloquy about 
the hardness of the times for poor folk, and the 
danger from the Danes. 

A violent knocking on the door was followed 
by the entrance of such a magnificent object that 
the spectators immediately applauded his advent. 
Nora, with her large build, short-cut hair, and 
generally boyish appearance, was the very one to 
act King Alfred. She had folded a plaid travel- 
ing rug into a kilt which reached just to her bare 
knees, borrowed a velvet coatee and a leather belt 
from Mrs. Best, and, by the aid of bandages from 
the ambulance cupboard, had made quite a good 
imitation of Saxon leg-gear. Armed with a bow 
and arrows, hastily constructed from twigs cut in 
the garden, she advanced with a manly stride, 
begged for hospitality, and was accommodated 
with a stool by the hearth, where she sat whit- 
tling^ arrows in an abstracted fashion, and heaving 
gusty sighs. 

The audience had hardly recovered from its as- 
tonishment when it was thrilled again by the en- 
trance of an ancient and elderly peasant man, so 
disguised that it was almost impossible to recog- 
nize Ingred. A water-proof with a broad leather 
belt served as coat, and, being padded inside with 
a pillow, gave the effect of bent and bowed 
shoulders. Some tow, supplied by Mrs. Best, was 
fastened as a long straggling beard, and bushy 
eyebrows of the same material were fixed on with 


A Hostel Frolic 


117 

soap. Leaning heavily upon a stick, he came limp- 
ing in, complaining in a tremulous voice of his 
rheumatism, started with amazement at the sight 
of the handsome stranger seated by his hearth, 
and drew his wife aside for explanations. The 
old couple, after conversing in audible whispers, 
decided to go out for more firewood, and as a last 
charge the dame commended her cakes to the care 
of their guest. King Alfred, on being left alone 
by the hearth, whittled away at his arrows with 
more energy than discrimination, and showed in- 
deed a sad lack of practical skill for so well sea- 
soned a warrior. Perhaps, however, he was not 
accustomed to have to make them for himself, 
and missed his chief archer. Throwing them 
down at last, he sank his head in his hands in an 
absolute cinema pose of despondency, and sighed 
to an extent which must have been painful to his 
lungs. The dame returned to sniff burning cakes 
and fly to the rescue of her cookery. Fil was 
quite a good little actress, and produced what she 
considered her piece de resistance. She had spent 
her summer holidays in Somerset, and had there 
picked up a local ballad which dealt with the leg- 
end in dialect. She brought out a verse of it now 
with great effect : 

“ Cusn’t ee zee the ca-afces, man? 

And cusn’t ee zee ’em burrn? 

Pse warrant ee eat ’em fast enough, 

Zoon as it be ee turn ! ” 


ii8 A Popular Schoolgirl 

And catching up a biscuit, carefully blackened 
beforehand by toasting it over the gas, she flaunted 
it in the face of the embarrassed monarch. 

The dramatic situation was slightly spoilt by 
the delay in the entrance of the courtier, who 
ought to have come in at that psychological mo- 
ment, and didn’t. The fact was that Verity, find- 
ing it dull waiting in the passage, had run upstairs 
to make some additions to her costume, and had 
miscalculated the length, or rather shortness, of 
the act. It is difficult for the most accomplished 
actor to go on looking embarrassed for any length 
of time, and as Fil’s eloquence in the scolding line 
suddenly failed her, there was an awful pause 
while the peasant husband, with wonderful agility 
considering his rheumatism, hopped to the door 
and called agitatedly for the missing performer. 
The courtier flew downstairs like a whirlwind, 
tripped into the room, and fell upon his red- 
stockinged knees to do homage to his sovereign, 
who rose majestically and extended a hand of 
pardon to the now grovelling peasant. 

The audience, particularly that portion seated 
in the gallery, clapped and cheered to such an ex- 
tent that one of the trestles, which had been care- 
lessly fixed, collapsed, and sent a whole row of 
girls sliding on to the floor, whence they were res- 
cued speechless with laughter, but uninjured. 


A Hostel Frolic 


1 19 

They came crowding round the performers to ad- 
mire the costumes. 

“ They’re topping! ” 

“ How did you think of them ? ” 

“ I like King Alfred’s legs ! ” 

“ Ingred, you look about a hundred ! ” 

“ Fil could scold 1 ” 

“ Verity, what was a courtier doing rambling 
about a forest in a blue dressing-gown? It would 
get torn on the bushes ! ” 

“ I know. We told her so, but she would wear 
it !” declared Ingred. “ She was just pig-headed 
over that dressing-gown ! ” 

“ Well, go and look at the Saxon pictures for 
yourself, in the history book! ” retorted Verity, 
sticking to her point. “ You’ll see the courtiers 
in long flowing garments very like dressing-gowns. 
I think it was a capital idea, and the best I could 
do. There wasn’t another rug for the kilt any- 
how, and when other people have taken the best 
parts and the nicest costumes, you’ve just got to 
put up with anything you can find that’s left.” 

“ You did it so well,” Ingred assured her 
hastily, for Verity had gone very pink, and her 
voice sounded distinctly offended. “ I thought 
the way you dropped on one knee and cried : ‘ My 
liege lord ! I am your humble socman ! ’ was 
most impressive. What made you think of ‘ soc- 
man r 


120 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Got it out of the history book,” said Verity, 
slightly mollified. “ It means a man who owned 
land, but wasn’t quite as high up as a thane. I 
meant to bring in some more Saxon words, but I 
hadn’t time.” 

“ You must win the dormitory score again, 
and give us another performance,” urged Mrs, 
Best. “ I’m afraid it’s too late for any more to- 
night, though we’re all sorry to stop. Those 
juniors ought to be in bed. Janie and Doreen, if 
you’d like a quiet half-hour to finish your prep, 
you may go into my room. Somebody put the 
tables back, please, and be sure the trestles are in 
their right places this time, we don’t want another 
collapse! Phyllis, your cough’s worse. Nurse 
shall rub your chest with camphorated oil, and 
you mustn’t kiss anybody. Betty too? I’ll give 
you a lozenge, but don’t suck it lying down in bed, 
in case you choke.” 

So saying, Mrs. Best, who generally mothered 
the hostel, dismissed her large family and bustled 
away with Nurse to superintend the putting to bed 
of the juniors and the due care of those who might 
be regarded as even ever so slightly on the sick 
list. It was perhaps owing to the excitement of 
their spirited performance that the members of 
No. 2 Dormitory could not get to sleep that night. 
They all lay wide awake in bed, and told each 
other tales about burglars, in whispers. Verity’s 


A Hostel Frolic 


I2I 


stories were blood-curdling in the extreme; she 
was a great reader, and had got them from maga- 
zines. Her three room-mates listened with cold 
shivers running down their spines. According to 
Verity’s accounts it was a common and every day 
occurrence for a house-breaker to force an en- 
trance, murder the occupants, and depart, leaving 
a case to baffle the police until some amateur de- 
tective turned up and solved the mystery. 

“ Has it ever struck you that the hostel would 
be a very easy place to burgle?” asked Fil. 
“ Those French windows have no shutters, and 
the glass could be cut with a diamond.” 

“ Or the doors could be opened with a skeleton 
key! ” quavered Nora. 

“ I suppose they generally wear goloshes, so as 
to tread softly,” ventured Ingred. 

“ Wouldn’t it be dreadful,” continued Verity, 
whose mind still ran on magazine stories, “ to 
marry a fascinating man whom you’d met by 
chance, and then find out that he was a gentleman- 
burglar? What would you do? ” 

“ It often happens on the cinema,” said Nora. 
“ The girl wavers about in an agony whether to 
tell or not, and wrings her hands and rolls her eyes, 
like they always do roll them on the films, and 
then, just when things are at the very last gasp, 
the husband tumbles over a precipice, or is wrecked 
at sea, or smashed in a railway accident, and she 


122 A Popular Schoolgirl 

marries the other, who’s as good as gold, and 
loved her first.” 

“ Is the man who loves you first always as good 
as gold? ” asked Fil. 

“ Well, generally on the Pictures. He’s loved 
you as a child, you see. You come on the film 
hand in hand, in socks, and he gives you his apple.” 

“ But suppose they don’t love you from a 
child?” said Fil plaintively. “I’ve only known 
a lot of horrid little boys whom I didn’t care for 
in the least. None of therh ever gave me his ap- 
ple, though I remember one taking mine. Is the 
first fascinating man I meet the true lover or the 
burglar ? How am I to know which is which ? ” 

“ You’d better let me be there to decide for 
you, child, or you’ll be snapped up by the first ad- 
venturer that comes along,” declared Nora. 
“ Don’t trust him if he has a mustache. ‘ Dar- 
ing Dick of the Black Gang ’ had a little twisted 
mustache like Mephistopheles in ‘ Faust’.” 

“ Oh dear ! And the last piece I saw on the 
Pictures, the villain was clean shaven ! That’s no 
guide at all ! ” 

“ Girls, you’re breaking the silence rule ! ” said 
Mrs. Best, opening the door of Dormitory 2, 
where the conversation, which had begun in 
whispers, had risen to a pitch audible on the land- 
ing outside. “ This doesn’t look like scoring 
again next week, and giving another performance. 


A Hostel Frolic 


123 


Why, Nora, the rain’s driving through that open 
window straight on to your bed! You’ll be get- 
ting rheumatism ! I shall shut it, and leave the 
door wide open for air instead. Now be good 
girls and go to sleep at once. Don’t let me hear 
any more talking.” 

The Foursomes, in common with most of the 
hostel, were fond of Mrs. Best, so they turned 
over obediently, and composed themselves to 
slumber. They were really tired by this time, 
and dropped off into the land of Nod before the 
clock on the stairs had chimed another quarter. 
How long she slept, Ingred did not know. She 
dreamt quite a long and circumstantial dream of 
wandering on the cliffs near the sea with a gen- 
tleman-burglar, who was telling her his intention 
of raiding Buckingham Palace and taking away 
the Crown Jewels, and she heard his daring de- 
signs (as we always do in dreams) without the 
slightest surprise or any suggestion that the 
Crown Jewels are kept at the Tower instead of 
at Buckingham Palace. She woke suddenly, and 
laughed at the absurdity of the idea. She felt 
hot, and threw back her eiderdown. The other 
girls were sleeping quietly, and the rain was still 
beating against the window in heavy showers, for 
it was a stormy night. The door of the bedroom 
stood wide open. What was that sound coming 
up the stairs from the hall below? It was cer- 


124 A Popular Schoolgirl 


tainly not the ticking of the clock. It seemed 
more like muffled and stealthy footsteps. In an 
instant Ingred was very wide awake indeed, and 
listening intently. There it came again ! She 
could not lie still and ignore it. She got out of 
bed, and with rather shaking knees walked on 
to the landing and peeped over the banisters. 
There was a tiny oil-lamp hanging on the wall ; it 
faintly illuminated the stairs. Was that some- 
body moving about in the darkness of the hall? 
If it was a burglar, he certainly must not come 
upstairs, or she would die of fright. An idea 
occurred to her, and acting on a sudden impulse 
she dashed into Dormitory 2, roused the others, 
and told them to snatch what missiles they could, 
and hurry to her aid. 

“ We’ll fling things at him if he tries to come 
up ! ” she gasped, groping for her boots. 

It was a horrible experience: four nervous, 
quaking girls stood in the dim light on the land- 
ing gazing down into the haunted blackness of the 
shadowy hall. The sounds had ceased tempo- 
rarily, but now they began again — a distinct 
shuffling as of footsteps, and even a subdued sniff, 
then the outline of a dark figure made its ap- 
pearance, bearing straight for the stairs. 

With quite commendable bravery Ingred flung 
her boots at it, which missiles were instantly fol- 
lowed by Nora’s hairbrush, Fil’s dispatch case, 


The Whispering Stones 125 

and Verity’s pillow. It screamed in a most un- 
burglardike voice, and apparently with genuine 
fright. 

“ If you t-t*t-try to c-c*come nearer, I’ll sh-sh- 
shoot you dead ! ” quavered Ingred, wishing she 
had at least some semblance of a pistol to bluff 
with. 

“ What are you doing, girls? ” replied the dark 
shadow, persisting in its movement towards the 
staircase, and, as it came into the faint circle of 
radiance spread by the lamp, resolving itself into 
the familiar form of Nurse Warner. “ Have 
you suddenly gone mad ? ” 

Here was a situation! The four girls flew 
back to their dormitory in great haste, especially 
as Mrs. Best, disturbed by the noise, had opened 
her door and come on to the scene in a pink-and- 
gray dressing-gown. They were followed, how- 
ever, by both Matron and Nurse, and forced to 
give an explanation of their extraordinary con- 
duct. 

“ I couldn’t sleep for the wind, so I put; on my 
felt slippers and my cloak, and went downstairs 
for a biscuit,” declared Nurse Warner, whose 
voice sounded rather aggrieved. “ I didn’t think 
I should disturb anybody.” 

“ You girls are the limit with your silly no- 
tions!” said Mrs. Best, really angry for once. 
“ If you fill your heads with absurd ideas about 


126 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

burglars before you go to sleep, of course you can 
imagine anything. If I hear any more talking in 
No. 2 another night after the lights are out, I 
shall separate you, and send each of you to sleep 
in another dormitory. I’ll not have the house 
upset like this! So you know what to expect. 
Are you all in your beds? Then not another 
word!” 

“ It’s very uncomfy without my pillow! ” whis- 
pered naughty Verity, in distinct disobedience to 
this mandate, as the door of Mrs. Best’s room 
closed. “ Dare I go and fetch it? ” 

“Sh! Sh! No!” 

“ I know what we’ll give Nursie for a Christ- 
mas present,” murmured Fil softly. “ A nice 
ornamental tin box of biscuits to keep in her bed- 
room. She shan’t get hungry in the night again, 
poor dear! ” 

“ Sh! Sh! Will you go to sleep!” warned 
Ingred emphatically. 


CHAPTER X 


The Whispering Stones 

The Saxon family had squeezed themselves and 
certain of their possessions into the little home at 
Wynch-on-the-Wold, and while flowers still 
bloomed in the garden and apples hung ripe on 
the trees it seemed a kind of continuation of their 
summer holiday; but as the novelty wore off, and 
stormy weather came on, their altered circum- 
stances began to be more evident. Most of us 
can make a plucky fight against fate at first — 
there had been something rather romantic about 
retiring to the bungalow — but the plain prose 
of the proceeding was yet to come, and there were 
certainly many disadvantages to be faced. Mr. 
Saxon was worried about business affairs; he was 
a proud, sensitive man, and felt it a great “ come 
down ” to be obliged to resign Rotherwood, and 
the social position it had stood for, and confess 
himself to the world as one of the “ newly poor.” 
It was humiliating to have to walk or take a tram 
where he had formerly used his car in fulfilling 
127 


128 A Popular Schoolgirl 

his professional engagements, hard not to be able 
to entertain his friends, and perhaps hardest of 
all to be obliged to refuse subscriptions to the 
numerous charities in the town where his name 
had always stood conspicuously upon the liberal 
list. His temper, never his strongest point, suf- 
fered under the test, and he would come home 
from Grovebury in the evenings tired out, moody 
and fretful, and inclined to find fault with every- 
thing and everybody. 

It took all his wife’s sunny sweetness of dis- 
position to keep the home atmosphere cheerful 
and peaceful, for Egbert also had a temper, and 
was bitterly disappointed at not being sent to 
Cambridge, and at having to settle down in the 
family office instead. Father and son did not 
get on remarkably well together. Mr. Saxon, 
like many parents, pooh-poohed his boy’s business 
efforts, and would sometimes — to Egbert’s huge 
indignation — point out his mistakes before the 
clerks. He would declare, in a high and mighty 
way, that his own son should not receive special 
preference at the office, and so overdid his attitude 
of impartiality that he contrived to give him a 
worse time than any of his other articled pupils. 

Athelstane, who had begun his medical course 
at the University of Birkshaw, also had his trou- 
bles. He had hoped to study at Guy’s Hospital 
in preparation for the London M.D., and to an 


129 


The Whispering Stones 

ambitious young fellow it was hard to be satis- 
fied with a provincial degree. The thirty-mile 
motor ride to and from Birkshaw soon lost its 
charm, and the difficulties of home study in the 
evenings were great in a bungalow with thin par- 
tition walls and a family not always disposed to 
quiet. As a rule, he kept his feelings to himself, 
but he went about with a depressed look, and got 
into a habit of lifting his eyebrows which was 
leaving permanent lines on a hitherto smooth and 
unwrinkled forehead. 

Pretty Quenrede, who had just left school, was 
going through the awkward phase of discovering 
her individuality. At the College, with a full 
program of lessons and games, she had followed 
the general lead of the form. Now, cast upon 
her own resources, she was quite vague as to any 
special bent or taste. The war-time occupations 
which had tempted her imagination were no 
longer available, and Careers for Women did not 
attract her, even if family funds had run to the 
necessary training. So, for the present, she 
stayed at home, going once a week to the School 
of Art at Grovebury, and practicing singing in a 
rather desultory fashion. Though she pretended 
to be glad she was an emancipated young lady, as 
a matter of fact she missed school immensely, and 
was finding life decidedly slow and tame. 

With their elders palpably dissatisfied, Ingred 


130 A Popular Schoolgirl 


and Hereward would have been hardly human if 
they had not raised some personal grievances of 
their own to grumble at, and matters would often 
have been dismal enough at the bungalow but for 
Mrs. Saxon’s happy capacity for looking on the 
bright side of things. The whole household cen- 
tered round “ Mother.” She was a woman in a 
thousand. Naturally it had hurt her to relin- 
quish Rotherwood, and it grieved her — for the 
girls’ sake — that most of her old acquaintances 
in Grovebury had not troubled to pay calls at 
Wynchcote. The small rooms, the one maid 
from the Orphanage, the necessity of doing much 
of the housework herself, the difficulties of shop- 
ping on a limited purse, and her husband’s fretful- 
ness and fault-finding, might have soured a less un- 
selfish disposition : she had married, however, 
“ for better or for worse,” and took the altered 
circumstances with cheery optimism. She was a 
great lover of nature and of scenery, and the near- 
ness of the moors, with their ever-changing ef- 
fects of storm and sunshine, and the opportunities 
they gave for the study of birds and insects, 
proved compensation for some of the things 
which life otherwise lacked. 

Every morning, after the fuss of getting off the 
family to their several avocations, she would run 
down the garden, and stand for a few minutes by 
the wall that overlooked the moor, watching great 


The Whispering Stones 

shafts of sunlight fall from a gray sky on to brown 
wastes of heather and bracken, listening to the 
call of the curlews or to the trilling autumn war- 
ble of the robin, perched on the red-berried haw- 
thorn bush. Kind Mother Nature could always 
soothe her spirits, and send her back with fresh 
courage for the day’s work. And, in the eve- 
ning, when husband and children came home to 
fire and lamp-light, she had generally some na- 
ture notes to tell them, or some amusing little 
incident to make them laugh and forget their 
various woes and worries. 

“ I’m so glad, Muwie dear, you’re not a melan- 
choly lugubrious person ! ” said Ingred once. “ It 
would be so trying if you sat at the tea-table and 
sighed.” 

“ Humor is the salt of life,” smiled Mrs. Saxon. 
“ We may just as well get all the fun out of the 
little daily happenings. Even ‘ the orphan ’ has 
her bright side ! ” 

As “ the orphan ” was a temporary member of 
the Wynchcote establishment she merits a word 
of description. She came from an institution in 
the neighborhood, and, being the only servant pro- 
curable at the time, was tolerated in spite of a 
terrible propensity for smashing plates, and for 
carolling at the very pitch of a nasal voice. She 
was a rough, good-tempered girl, devoted to 
Minx, the cat, and really kind if anybody had a 


132 A Popular Schoolgirl 

headache or toothache, but quite without any 
sense of discrimination: she would show a travel- 
ing hawker into the drawing-room, and leave the 
clergyman standing on the doorstep, took the best 
serviettes to wipe the china, scoured the silver 
with Monkey Brand Soap, and systematically be- 
spattered the kitchen tablecloth with ink. Her 
love of music was a terrible trial to the medical 
student of the family on Saturday morning, when 
he was endeavoring to read at home. 

“ Carlyle says somewhere : ‘ Give, oh, give me 
a man who sings at his work! ’ ” growled Athel- 
stane one day, bursting forth from his den to 
complain of the nuisance, “ but I bet the old buf- 
fer didn’t write that sentiment with a maid-servant 
howling popular songs in the next room. Ac- 
cording to all accounts he loathed noise and 
couldn’t even stand the crowing of a cock. I 
should call that bit of eloquence just bunkum. If 
the orphan doesn’t stop this voice-production busi- 
ness I shall have to go and slay her. How can a 
fellow study in the midst of such a racket? 
Where’s the Mater? Down in Grovebury? I 
suppose that accounts for it. While the cat’s 
away, &c.” 

“ Hardly complimentary to compare your ma- 
ternal relative to a cat ! ” chuckled Ingred. 
“ Stop the orphan if you can, but you might as 
well try to stop the brook! She’s quiet for five 


The Whispering Stones i33 

minutes then bursts out into song again like a 
chirruping cricket or a croaking corn-crake. I 
want to spiflicate her myself sometimes.” 

“ * Late last night I slew my wife, 

Stretched her on the parquet flooring; 

I was loath to take her life, 

But I had to stop her snoring ! ’ ” 

quoted Hereward from Ruthless Rhymes. 

“ Look here ! ” said Quenrede, emerging from 
the kitchen with a half-packed lunch basket. 
“ We three are taking sandwiches, and going for 
a good old tramp over the moors. Why not 
drop your work for once and come with us? 
You look as if you needed a holiday.” 

“ I’ve a beast of a headache,” admitted Athel- 
stane. 

“ You want fresh air, not study,” decreed 
Quenrede with sisterly firmness, “ and I shall just 
make some extra sandwiches and put another ap- 
ple in the basket. With mother out, the orphan 
will carol all the morning, unless you gag her, so 
you may as well accept the inevitable.” 

“ Cut and run, in fact ! ” added Hereward. 

“ The voice of the siren tempts me to go — to 
escape the voice of the siren who stays ! ” wavered 
Athelstane. 

“Oh, come along, old sport!” urged Ingred. 
“ What are a few old bones to Red Ridge Bar- 
row? You can swat to-night to make up, if you 
want to.” 


134 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ It’s three to one ! ” said Athelstane, giving 
way gracefully; “ and there mayn’t be any more 
fine Saturdays for walks.” 

The four young people started forth with the 
delightful sense of having the day before them. 
It was fairly early, and a hazy November sun 
had not yet drawn the moisture from the 
heather. On the moor the few trees were bare, 
but the golden autumn leaves still clothed the 
woods in the sheltered valley that stretched be- 
low. Masses of gossamer covered with dew- 
drops lay among the bracken, like fairies’ wash- 
ing hung out to dry. There was a hint of hoar- 
frost under the bushes. The air had that de- 
licious invigorating quality when every breath sets 
the body dancing. It was too late in the year 
for flowers, though here and there a little gorse 
lingered, or a few buttercups and hawkweeds. 
After about an hour of red haziness the sun 
pierced the bank of mist and shone out gloriously, 
almost as in summer ; the birds, ready to snatch a 
moment’s joy, were flitting about tweeting and 
calling, a water-wagtail took a bath in a shallow 
pool of a stream, and a great flock of bramblings, 
rare visitors in those parts, paused in their migra- 
tion to hold a chattering conference round an old 
elder tree. 

The Saxons were determined to-day to go far- 
ther afield than their walks had hitherto taken 


The Whispering Stones i35 

them. The local guide-book mentioned some pre- 
historic menhirs and a chambered barrow on the 
top of Red Ridge, a distant hill, so they had fixed 
that as their Mecca. 

It was a considerable tramp, but the bracing air 
helped them on, and they sat down at last to eat 
their lunch by the side of the path that led to the 
summit. The boys had wished to mount to the 
top without calling a halt, but the girls had struck, 
and insisted on a rest before the final climb. 

Pity Mother isn’t here! ” said Ingred, voic- 
ing the general feeling of the family, which always 
missed its central pivot. 

“ Yes, but it would have been too great a 
trapse for her, poor darling!” qualified Quen- 
rede. “ I don’t see how we could get her all this 
way unless we hired a pony.” 

“ Or • borrowed an aeroplane. One seems 
about as possible as the other,” grunted Ingred. 

“ She shall have a photo of the stones at any 
rate,” said Hereward, fingering his camera. 
“ Hurry up and finish, you girls, or the light will 
be gone ! ” 

“ Well, we can’t bolt our sandwiches at the 
rate you do ! I wonder you don’t choke ! ” 

The old gray stones stood in a circle on the top 
of the hill, from whence they had possibly seen 
four thousand summers and winters pass by. 
Whether their original purpose was temple, astro- 


136 A Popular Schoolgirl 

nomical observatory, or both is one of the riddles 
of antiquarian research, for neolithic man left no 
record of his doings beyond the weapons buried 
with him in his barrow. Legend, however, like 
a busy gossip, had stepped in and supplied points 
upon which history was silent. Traditions of the 
neighborhood explained the menhirs as twelve 
giants turned into stone by the magic powers of 
good King Arthur, who, in defiance of the claims 
of the isle of Avalon, was supposed to be buried 
in a hitherto unexplored chamber of the large 
green mound that stood near. Sometimes, so the 
story ran, the giants whispered to one another, 
and any one who came there alone at daybreak on 
May morning might glean much useful informa- 
tion regarding the personal appearance of his or 
her future lover. As it was obviously difficult to 
reach so out-of-the-way a spot at such a very early 
hour, the oracles were seldom consulted at the one 
and only moment when they were supposed to 
whisper. There were reputed, however, to be 
other and easier means of gleaning knowledge 
from them. Ingred, who had been priming her- 
self with local lore, confided details of the occult 
ceremonial to Quenrede. 

“ It sounds rather thrillsome ! ” admitted that 
damsel doubtfully. “ I’d really like to try it, 
only the boys would tease me to death. You 
know what they are ! ” 


The Whispering Stones i37 

“ They’re going over there to photograph the 
cromlech. You’d have time before they come 
back.” 

“ Shall I? ” 

“ Go on!” 

“Tell me again what to do.” 

“ You let your hair down, and walk bareheaded 
in and out and in and out round all the circle of 
stones. Then you put an offering of flowers on 
that biggest stone — the Giant King, he’s called 
— and throw a pebble into the little pool below. 
You count the bubbles that come up — one for 
A, two for B, &c., — and they’ll give you the ini- 
tial of your future lover. With very great luck, 
you' might see his shadow in the pool, but that 
does not often happen.” 

“ I don’t believe in it, of course, but I’ll try for 
fun I The Giant King won’t get much in the way 
of a bouquet to-day! ” 

Quenrede, protesting her scepticism, but all the 
same palpably enjoying the magic experiment, 
picked an indifferent nosegay of the few butter- 
cups, hawkweeds, and late pieces of scabious 
which were the only flowers available. Then she 
removed her hairpins, and, letting down a shower 
of flaxen hair, commenced her winding pilgrimage 
among the old gray stones. There is a vein of 
superstition in the most modern of minds, and 
she was probably following a custom that had 


138 A Popular Schoolgirl 

come down the ages from the days when our prim- 
itive ancestresses clothed themselves in skins and 
twisted their pre-historic locks with pins of mam- 
moth ivory. In and out and in and out, with 
Ingred, like an attendant priestess, behind her, she 
performed the necessary itinerary, and laid her 
floral offering upon what may have been the re- 
mains of a neolithic altar. The pool below was 
dark and boggy and brown with peat. She took a 
good-sized pebble, and flung it into the middle 
with a terrific splash. Ingred, giggling nervously, 
counted the bubbles. 

“A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I — It’s ‘I,’ 
Queenie! No, there’s another! It’s‘J’! It’s 
going to be ‘ J,’ old sport! Aren’t you thrived ? 
Oh, I say! Whoever on earth is that? ” 

Following the direction of her sister’s eyes, 
Quenrede looked through a veil of wind-blown 
hair, to see, standing among the stones, a stranger 
of the opposite sex, garbed in tweed knickers and 
leather gaiters. One glance was enough. The 
next second she turned, and beat a hurried and 
ignominious retreat to the sheltered side of the 
green mound. Ingred, panting in the rear, fol- 
lowed her to cover. 

Quenrede, very pink in the face, sat down on 
a clump of heather and immediately began to put 
up her hair. 

“ I never felt such an idiot in my life ! ” she con- 


The Whispering Stones i39 

fided with energy to her sympathetic audience of 
one. “Ingred! That man knew what I was 
doing! I saw the horrid amusement in his face. 
He was laughing at me for all he was worth. I 
know he was ! ” 

At eighteen it is an overwhelming matter to be 
laughed at. Quenrede’s newly-developed dignity 
was decidedly wounded. 

“ After all, it was a very schoolgirlish thing to 
do,” she remarked, sticking in hair-pins as well as 
she could without a mirror. “ Do you think he’s 
still there? I shall stop here till he marches off.” 

“ I’ll go and prospect,” said Ingred. 

She came back with the bad news that not only 
was the stranger still there, but he was actually in 
close and apparently familiar conversation with 
Athelstane and Hereward, who were calling 
loudly for their sisters, and to confirm her words 
came distant jodellings of : 

” Ingred!” 

“ Queenie ! ” 

“ Where are you girls? ” 

There was nothing for it but to come forth 
from their retreat. It was impossible to stay 
hidden forever. Quenrede issued as noncha- 
lantly as she could, with her hair tucked under her 
tarri-o’-shanter, and her gloves on. She bowed 
instead of shaking hands when Athelstane intro- 
duced Mr. Broughten, a fellow-student of his col- 


140 A Popular Schoolgirl 

lege ; it seemed a more grown-up and superior at- 
titude to adopt. She thought his eyes twinkled, 
but she preserved such an air of stand-off dignity 
that he promptly suppressed any undue inclina- 
tions towards mirth, and stood looking the epit- 
ome of grave politeness. 

“ Broughten knows all about the old barrow,” 
Athelstane explained. “ He’s got a candle with 
him — we were duds not to bring one our- 
selves — and he’s going to act showman. Come 
along! ” 

The entrance into the mound was through a low 
doorway with lintel and posts of unhewn stone. 
Inside was a kind of central hall with three rudely- 
constructed chambers leading out of it. A pile of 
rough stones in front seemed to point to further 
chambers. 

“ That part’s never been explored yet,” said 
Mr. Broughten. “ Some of us want to tackle it 
some day, if we can get permission, but it’s a big 
job. You don’t want to bring the barrow down 
on your head, and be buried in the ruins 1 I never 
think the roof looks too secure,” he added easily, 
poking at the stones above with his stick. 

The girls, aghast at the notion of a possible 
subsidence, made a hasty exit to the open air, and 
hovered near the entrance in much agitation of 
mind till the rest of the party made a safe reap- 
pearance. Their conductor, with a side glance at 





The Whispering Stones Hi 

the bunch of flowers — which Quenrcde ignored 
— made some reference to the Giant King stone 
and his whispering companions: he was evidently 
well versed in all old traditions, though he re- 
frained from mentioning local practices. He 
walked part of the way home with the Saxons 
before he branched off to the place where he had 
left his bicycle. 

“You look nice — you do, really, with your 
hair down,” said Ingred to Quenrede that night, 
as the latter sat wielding her hairbrush at bed- 
time. “ And you needn’t be afraid anybody 
would mistake you for a flapper. Why, Harry 
Scampton actually asked Hereward the other day 
if you were married! By the by,” she added 
wickedly, “ do you know I’ve ascertained that Mr. 
Broughten’s Christian name begins with ‘ J.’ 
Whether ‘ John ’ or ‘ James ’ I can’t say ! ” 

“I don’t care if it’s Jehosaphat!” snorted 
Queenie. “ I’ve told you already he doesn’t in- 
terest me in the least 1 ” 


CHAPTER XI 


On Strike 

It was about this time that a general spirit of 
trouble and dissatisfaction seemed to creep into 
the school. How and where it started nobody 
knew, any more than one can trace the origin of 
influenza germs. There is no epidemic more 
catching than grumbling, however, and the com- 
plaint spread rapidly. It had the unfortunate ef- 
fect of reacting upon itself. The fact that the 
girls were restive made the teachers more strict, 
and that in its turn produced fresh complaints. 
Miss Burd, careful for the cause of discipline, 
made a new rule that any form showing a record 
of a single cross for conduct would be debarred 
for a week from the use of the asphalt tennis- 
courts, a decidedly drastic measure, but one that 
in her opinion was necessary to meet the emer- 
gency. 

Though the disorder was mostly among the 
juniors, Va was not altogether immune from the 
microbe. It really began with a quarrel between 
Ingred and Beatrice Jackson. The latter was a 
type of girl common enough in all large schools. 

142 


143 


On Strike 

She was not always scrupulously honorable over 
her work, but she liked to curry favor with the 
mistresses. She copied her exercises shame- 
lessly, would surreptitiously look up words in the 
midst of unseen Latin translation, and was cap- 
able not only of other meannesses, but sometimes 
of a downright deliberate fib. She and Ingred 
were at such opposite poles that they did not 
harmonize well together. In the old days, with 
visions of parties at Rotherwood, Beatrice had at 
least been civil, but now that there seemed no 
further prospect of being asked to pleasant en- 
tertainments, she had turned round and treated 
Ingred with scant politeness in general, and some- 
times with deliberate rudeness. Little things that 
perhaps we laugh at afterwards, hurt very much 
at the time, and Ingred was passing through an 
ultra sensitive phase. During the latter part of 
that autumn term she detested Beatrice. 

One day Miss Burd announced that on the fol- 
lowing Saturday there was to be a match played 
in a suburb of Grovebury between two first-class 
ladies’ hockey clubs. She suggested that it might 
be of advantage to some of the girls to go and 
watch it, and proposed that each of the upper 
forms should elect one of their number as spe- 
cial reporter to write an account of the match 
which could be read aloud afterwards in schooL 
The idea rather struck them, 


144 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ It’s Finbury Wanderers versus Hilton,” said 
Linda Slater, “ and they’re both jolly good, I 
know. Wish I could have gone myself, but I’m 
booked already for Saturday.” 

“ Heaps of us are,” said Cicely Denham. 

“ We’d like to hear about it, though,” added 
Kitty Saunders. “ I call it rather a brain wave 
to choose a reporter.” 

“ Hands up any girls who are free on Satur- 
day! ” called Beatrice Jackson. 

The announcement had been made rather late, 
so most of the form already had engagements 
for the holiday. Only six hands were raised, be- 
longing respectively to Ingred Saxon, Avie Irving, 
Avis Marlowe, Francie Hall, Bess Haselford, and 
Beatrice Jackson herself. 

“ A poor muster for Va ! ” remarked Kitty. 
“ As Ingred’s our warden, I should think she’d 
better write the report.” 

“ The Finbury ground is a horribly awkward 
place to get to,” put in Beatrice. “ I suppose 
you’ll motor there, Ingred.” 

“ We have no car now,” confessed Ingred, 
turning very red, for she was sure that Beatrice 
knew that fact only to well, and had brought it 
into prominence on purpose to humiliate her. 

“Oh! I suppose you’ll be motoring, Bess? 
Couldn’t you give some of us a lift ?” 

“ I believe I could take you all,” replied Bess 


H5 


On Strike 

pleasantly. “ Of course I shall have to ask Dad 
first if I may have the car out on Saturday, but I 
don’t expect he’ll say no.” 

“Oh, what sport! We’ll come, you bet. 
Look here, I beg to propose that Bess Haselford 
writes the report of the match.” 

“ And I second it,” declared Francie. “ Hands 
up, girls ! Bess shall be ‘ boss ’ for this show.” 

Half the girls in the room had not heard Kitty’s 
proposal that Ingred should be chosen, and some 
of the others, listening imperfectly, had gathered 
that she was not able to go to the match, so with- 
out giving her a further thought they raised hands 
in favor of Bess, and the matter was carried. 

“ But indeed I’m no good at writing or describ- 
ing things ! ” protested Bess. 

“ Yes, you are ! You’ve got to try, so there ! ” 
cried her friends triumphantly. “ You’ll do it 
just as well as anybody else would.” 

Ingred turned away with a red-hot spot raging 
under her blouse. That she, the warden of the 
form, should have been passed over in favor of 
a girl whose sole qualification seemed to be that 
she could offer some of the others a lift in her car, 
was a very nasty knock. Was Bess to supplant 
her in everything ? 

“ Perhaps you’d like to make her warden in- 
stead of me ! ” she remarked bitterly to Belle 
Charlton, who stood near, “ I’m perfectly 


146 A Popular Schoolgirl 

willing to resign if you’re tired of me ! ” 

Belle only giggled and poked Joanna Powers, 
who said : 

“ Don’t be nasty, Ingred! Bess is a sport, and 
we most of us like her.” 

“I can’t see the attraction myself!” snapped 
Ingred. 

She did not want to go to the hockey match 
now, and made up her mind obstinately that noth- 
ing in this wide world should decoy her to it. 
Bess came to school next morning armed with full 
permission to use her father’s car and to invite as 
many of her schoolfellows as it would accommo- 
date. She cordially pressed Ingred to join the 
party. 

“ I’m not going to the match, thanks,” replied 
the latter frigidly. 

“ But there’s heaps of room — there is indeed, 
without a frightful squash.” 

“ There’s something I want to do at home on 
Saturday.” 

“ Couldn’t you do it in the morning? The 
form will be disappointed if you don’t go — and, 

I say ” (shyly) “ I wish you’d write that 

wretched report instead of me. I hate the idea 
of doing it ! ” 

” The form won’t care twopence whether I go 
or stay away, and as they’ve chosen you to 
write the report you’ll have to write it or it’ll 


147 


On Strike 

be left undone,” retorted Ingred perversely. 

Bess, looking decidedly hurt, turned away. 
Her little efforts at friendship with Ingred were 
invariably met in this most ungracious fashion. 
She could not understand why her kindly-meant 
advances should always be so systematically re- 
pulsed. Ingred, on her part, stalked off with 
the mean feeling of one who at bottom knows she 
is in the wrong, but won’t acknowledge it even to 
herself. Under the sub-current of indignation 
she realized that she would have liked Bess im- 
mensely if only the latter had not taken up her 
residence at Rotherwood. That, however, was 
an offense which she deemed it quite impossible 
ever to forgive. 

Ingred went about her work that morning in 
a very scratchy mood, so much so as to attract the 
attention of Miss Strong, who possibly felt a lit- 
tle prickly herself, since even teachers have their 
phases of temper. It was at that time a fashion 
in the form for the girls to keep all sorts af ab- 
surd mascots inside their desks, the collecting and 
comparison of which afforded them huge satis- 
faction. Now Miss Strong happened to be lec- 
turing on “ The Age of Elizabeth,” a subject so 
congenial to her that she was generally most in- 
teresting. But to-day she had reached a rather 
dry and arid portion of that famous reign, and 
even her powers of description failed for once and 


148 A Popular Schoolgirl 

the lesson became a mere catalogue of events and 
dates. Ingred, bored stiff with listening, secretly 
opened her desk, and, taking a selection of treas- 
ures from it, began to fondle them surreptitiously 
upon her lap. It was, of course, a quite illegal 
thing to do. She glanced at them occasionally, 
but for the most part kept her eyes upon her 
teacher. Beatrice, however, who sat near and 
had an excellent view of Ingred’s lap, gazed at it 
with such persistent and marked attention that she 
attracted the notice of Miss Strong, who followed 
the direction of her looks and pounced upon the 
offender. 

“ Ingred Saxon, what have you there? Bring 
those things to me immediately and put them on 
my desk ! ” 

With a crimson face Ingred obeyed, and handed 
over into the teacher’s custody: 

1 . A black velvet cat. 

2. A small golliwog. 

3. A piece of four-leaved clover. 

4. A stone with a hole in it. 

5. An ivory pig. 

Miss Strong smiled cynically. 

“ At fifteen years of age,” she remarked, “ I 
should have thought a girl would have advanced 
a little further than playthings of this description. 
The Kindergarten would evidently be a more fit 


On Strike 149 

form for you than Va! You lose five order 
marks.” 

Five order marks ! Ingred gasped with 
amazed indignation. One at a time was the usual 
forfeit, but to lose five “ at one fell swoop ” 
seemed excessive, and would make a considerable 
difference to her weekly record. She blazed 
against the injustice. No girl in the form had 
ever had so severe punishment. 

“ Oh, Miss Strong ! ” she protested hotly. 
" Five! I haven’t really done anything more 
than heaps of the others. It’s not fair ! ” 

Now if Ingred had really hoped to get her sen- 
tence remitted she could not have done a more ab- 
solutely suicidal thing. A mistress may overlook 
some faults, but she will not stand “ cheek.” The 
discipline of the form was at stake, and Miss 
Strong was not a mistress to be trifled with. Her 
little figure absolutely quivered with dignity, and 
though physically she was shorter than her pupil, 
morally she seemed to tower yards. She fixed 
her clear dark eyes in a kind of hypnotic stare on 
Ingred and remarked witheringly : 

“ That will do ! I don’t allow any girl to 
speak to me in this fashion! You’ll take a cross 
for conduct as well as losing the fivp order marks. 
You may go to your seat now.” 

Ingred walked back to her desk covered with 
humiliation. To be publicly rebuked before the 


15° A Popular Schoolgirl 

whole form was an unpleasant experience, par- 
ticularly for a warden. Beatrice, Francie, and 
several others were holding up self-righteous 
noses, though their desks contained an equal as- 
sortment of mascots. Ingred, still seething, made 
little attempt to listen to the rest of the lecture, 
and was obliged to pass the questions which came 
to her afterwards on the subject-matter. She 
was heartily thankful when eleven o’clock brought 
the brief ten minutes “ break.” 

“ Well, you have been a lunatic this morning! ” 
said Beatrice, passing her, biscuits in hand, in the 
cloakroom. “ What possessed you to go and lose 
the tennis-court for the form? ” 

“ If you hadn’t stared so hard at me Miss 
Strong would never have noticed.” 

“ Oh, of course ! Throw the blame on some- 
body else! You’re always the ‘little white hen 
that never lays astray.’ ” 

“ Kitty and Evie and Belle and I had arranged 
a set!” grumbled Cicely Denham. “It’s most 
unfair, this rule of punishing the whole form for 
what one girl does ! ” 

“Go and tell Miss Burd so then!” flared 
Ingred. “ It hasn’t been very successful so far 
to tell teachers they’re not fair, but you may have 
better luck than I had. She’ll probably say : 

‘ Oh, yes, Cicely dear. I’ll rearrange the rules at 
once ! ’ So like her, isn’t it? ” 


On Strike 


151 

Now you’re sark! Almost as sarky as the 
Snark herself!” commented Cicely, as Ingred, 
choking over a last biscuit, stumped away. 

There is much written nowadays about the un- 
conscious power of thought waves, and certainly 
one grumbler can often spread dissatisfaction 
through an entire community. Perhaps the black 
looks which Ingred encountered from the disap- 
pointed tennis-players in her form turned into 
naughty sprites who whispered treason in the ears 
of the juniors, or perhaps it was a mere coinci- 
dence that mutiny suddenly broke out in the Lower 
School. It began with a company of ten-year- 
olds who, with pencil boxes and drawing books, 
were being escorted by Althea Riley, one of the 
prefects, along the corridor to the studio. Hith- 
erto, by dint of judicious curbing, they had always 
walked two and two in decent line and had re- 
frained from prohibited conversation. To-day 
they surged upstairs in an unseemly rabble, chat- 
tering and talking like a flock of rooks or jack- 
daws at sunset. It was in vain that Althea tried 
to restore order, her efforts at discipline were 
simply scouted by the unruly mob, who rushed 
into the studio helter-skelter, took their places 
anyhow, and only controlled themselves at the en- 
trance of Miss Godwin, the art mistress. 

Althea, flushed, indignant, and most upset, 
sought her fellow-prefects. 


152 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Sh,all I go and complain to Miss Burd? ” she 
asked. 

“ Um — I don’t think I should yet,” said Lispeth 
a little doubtfully. “ You see, Miss Bufd has 
given us authority and she likes us to use it our- 
selves as much as we can, without appealing to her. 
Of course in any extremity she’ll support us. I’ll 
pin up a notice in the junior cloak-room and see 
what effect that has. It may settle them.” 

Lispeth stayed after four o’clock until the last 
coat and hat had disappeared from the hooks in 
the juniors’ dressing-room. Then she pinned her 
ultimatum on their notice board: 

“ In consequence of the extremely bad behavior 
of certain girls on the stairs this afternoon, the 
prefects give notice that should any repetition of 
such conduct occur, the names of the offenders 
will be taken and they will be reported to Miss 
Burd for punishment.” 

“ That ought to finish those kids ! ” she thought 
as she pushed in the drawing-pins. 

There was more than the usual amount of buz- 
zing conversation next morning as juvenile heads 
bumped each other in their efforts to read the no- 
tice. The result, however, was absolutely unpre- 
cedented in the annals of the school. It was the 
custom of the Sixth Form, and of many of the 
Fifth, to take their lunch and eat it quietly in the 
gymnasium. There was no hard and fast rule 


On Strike 


153 


about this, but it was generally understood to be a 
privilege of the upper forms only, and intermedi- 
ates and juniors were not supposed to intrude. 
To-day most of the elder girls were sitting in 
clumps at the far end of the gymnasium, when 
through the open door marched a most amazing 
procession of juniors. They were headed by 
Phyllis Smith and Dorrie Barnes carrying between 
them a small blackboard upon which was chalked: 

DOWN WITH PREFECTS! 
RIGHTS FOR JUNIORS! 

THE WHOLE SCHOOL IS EQUAL! 

After these ringleaders marched a determined 
crowd waving flags made of handkerchiefs fas- 
tened to the end of rulers. A band, equipped with 
combs covered with tissue-paper torn from their 
drawing-books, played the strains of the “ Mar- 
seillaise.” They advanced towards the seniors 
in a very truculent fashion. 

” Well, really! ” exclaimed Lispeth, recovering 
from her momentary amazement. “ What’s the 
meaning of all this. I’d like to know? ” 

“ It’s a strike ! ” said Dorrie proudly, as she 
and Phyllis paused so as to display the blackboard 
before the eyes of the Sixth. ” We don’t see why 
you big girls should lord it over us any longer. 
We’ll obey the mistresses, but we’ll not obey pre- 


154 A Popular Schoolgirl 

fects.” 

“ You’ll just jolly well do as you’re told, you 
impudent young monkeys ! ” declared Lispeth, 
losing her temper. “ Here, clear out of this gym- 
nasium at once ! ” 

“ We shan’t! We’ve as good a right here as 
you 1 ” 

“ We ought to send wardens to the School Par- 
liament.” 

“We haven’t any voice in school affairs I ” 

“It’s not fair!” 

“We shan’t stand it any longer! ” 

The shrill voices of the insurgents reached cre- 
scendo as they hurled forth their defiance. They 
were evidently bent on red-hot revolution. Lis- 
peth rose to read the Riot Act. 

“ If you don’t take yourselves off I shall go for 
Miss Burd, and a nice row you’d get into then. 
I give you while I count ten. One — two — 
three — four ” 

Whether the strikers would have stood their 
ground or not is still an unsolved problem, but at 
that opportune moment the big school bell be- 
gan to clang, and Miss Willough, the drill mis- 
tress, in her blue tunic, entered the gymnasium 
ready to take her next class. At sight of her, 
Dorrie hastily wiped the blackboard, and the 
juniors fled to their own form-rooms, suppressing 
flags and musical instruments on the way. Miss 


155 


On Strike 

Willough gazed at them meditatively, but made 
no comment, and the Sixth, hurrying to a litera- 
ture lesson, had no time to offer explanations. 

Lispeth, more upset than she cared to own, 
talked the matter over with her mother when she 
went to dinner at one o’clock. She was a very 
conscientious girl and anxious to do her duty as 
“ Head.” As a result of the home conference 
she went to Miss Burd, explained the situation, 
and asked to be allowed to have the whole school 
together for ten minutes before four o’clock. 

“ It’s only lately there’s been this trouble,” she 
said. “ I believe if I talk nicely to the girls I can 
get back my influence. That’s what Mother ad- 
vised. She said ‘ try persuasion first.’ ” 

“ She’s right, too,” agreed Miss Burd. “ If 
you can get them to obey you willingly it’s far bet- 
ter than if I have to step in and put my foot down. 
What we want is to change the general current of 
thought.” 

Speculation was rife in the various forms as the 
closing bell rang at 3 :45 instead of at 4 o’clock, 
and the girls were told to assemble in the Lecture 
Hall, and were put on their honor to behave them- 
selves. To their surprise, the mistresses, after 
seeing them seated, left the room. Miss Burd 
mounted the platform and announced : 

“ Lispeth Scott wishes to speak to you all, and 
I should like you to know that anything she has to 


is6 A Popular Schoolgirl 

say is said with my entire approval and sanction. 
I hope you will listen to her in perfect silence.” 

Then she followed the other mistresses. 

All eyes were fixed on Lispeth as she ascended 
the platform. With her tall ample figure, earn- 
est blue eyes, light hair, and fair face flushed with 
the excitement of her task she looked a typical 
English girl, and made what she hoped was a 
typical English speech. 

“ I asked you to come,” she began rather shyly, 
“ because I think lately there have been some mis- 
understandings in the school, and I want, if pos- 
sible, to put them straight. There has been a 
good deal of talk about ‘ equality,’ and some of 
you say there oughtn’t to be prefects. I wonder 
exactly what you mean by ‘ equality ? ’ Certainly 
all girls aren’t born with equal talents, yet each 
separate soul is of value to the community and 
must not go to waste. The test of a school is not 
how many show pupils it has turned out, but 
how all its pupils are prepared to face the world. 
I think we can only do this by sticking together 
and trying to help each other. In every commu- 
nity, however, there must be leaders. An army 
would soon go to pieces without its officers ! The 
prefects and wardens have been chosen as leaders, 
and it ought to be a point of honor with you to 
-uphold their authority. I assure you they don’t 
work for their own good, but for the good of the 


On Strike 


157 


school. I hear it is a grievance with the juniors 
that they mayn’t elect wardens for the Council. 
Well — they shall do that when they’re older; it 
will be something for them to look forward to! 
There’s a privilege, though, that we can and will 
give them. We’re going to start a Junior branch 
of the Rainbow League, and I think when they’re 
doing their level best to help others, they’ll forget 
about themselves. Carlyle says that the very dull- 
est drudge has the elements of a hero in him if he 
once sees the chance of aiming at something higher 
than happiness. Please don’t say I’m preaching, 
for I hate to be a prig ! Only we’d all made up 
our minds to do our ‘ bit ’ in ‘ after the war work,’ 
and it seems such a pity if we forget, and let the 
tone of the school drop — as it certainly has 
dropped lately. I’m sure if we all think about it 
■we can keep it up, and Seniors and Juniors can 
work together without any horrid squabbles. We 
big girls were juniors ourselves once, and you lit- 
tle ones will be seniors some day, so that’s one 
^ay of looking at it. Now that’s all I’ve got to 
say, except that any Juniors who like can stay be- 
Ihind now and join the Junior Branch of the Rain- 
bow League. We want to get up a special Scrap- 
book Union, and Miss Burd says she’ll give a 
prize for the best scrap-book, and also for the 
best home-made doll. She’s going to have an 
exhibition on breaking-up day.” 


CHAPTER XII 


The Rainbow League 

Though Lispeth, in her agitation, had not said 
half the nice things she had intended to say, her 
little speech had good effect. It reminded the 
girls of some of the high ideals with which they 
had started the term, and which, like many high 
and beautiful things, were in danger of getting 
crowded out of the way by commoner interests. 
Everybody suddenly remembered the exhibition 
and sale which was to come off before Christmas, 
and made a spurt to send some adequate contribu- 
tion. The juniors, flattered at having a special 
branch of their own of the Rainbow League, and 
time allotted in school to its work, dabbed away 
blissfully at scrap-book making, with gummy over- 
alls and seccotiny fingers, but complacent faces. 
The prefects, with intent, dropped in when pos- 
sible to admire the efforts. 

“ I believe,” said Lispeth to her special con- 
fidante Althea, “ that perhaps we were making 
rather a mistake. You can’t have any influence 
with those kids unless you keep well in touch with 
158 


159 


The Rainbow League 

them. I was so busy, I just let them slide before, 
and I suppose that was partly why they got out of 
hand, though the little monkeys had no business 
to get up that impudent strike! They’re as dif- 
ferent as possible now, and some of them are 
quite decent kiddies. Dorrie Barnes brought me 
a rose this morning. I suppose it was meant as 
a sort of peace-offering.” 

It was arranged to hold what was called ” The 
Rainbow Fete ” on breaking-up afternoon, and 
parents and friends were invited to the ceremony. 
There was to be both a sale and an exhibition. 
The best of the toys and little fancy articles were 
to be at a special stall, and would be sold for the 
benefit of the “ War Orphans’ Fund,” and those 
that were not quite up to standard would never- 
theless be on view, and would be sent away after- 
wards to help to deck Christmas trees in the 
slums. THE stall, as the girls called it, was of 
course the center of attraction. It was draped 
with colored muslins in the rainbow tints, and 
though real irises were unobtainable, some vases 
of artificial ones formed a very good substitute. 
The home-made toys were really most creditable 
to the handicraft-workers, and had been ingen- 
iously contrived with bobbins, small boxes, and 
slight additions of wood, cardboard, and paper, 
aided by the color-box. Windmills, whirligigs, 
carts, engines, trains, dolls’ house furniture, jig- 


i6o A' Popular Schoolgirl 

saw puzzles, cardboard animals with movable 
limbs, black velveteen cats with bead eyes, beauti- 
fully dressed rag dolls, wool balls and rattles for 
babies, and dear little books of extracts, were 
some of the things set out in a tempting display. 
Fil, whose slim fingers excelled in dainty work, 
had contributed three charming booklets of 
poetry and nice bits cut from magazines and news- 
papers, the back being of colored linen embroid- 
ered with devices in silk. They were so pretty 
that they were all snapped up beforehand, and 
could have been sold three times over. 

“You promised one to me — you know you 
did! ” urged Linda Slater, much aggrieved at the 
non-performance of an order. 

“ Well, I thought I’d have time to do four, and 
could only manage three,” apologized Fil. “ You 
see, they really take such ages, and Miss Strong 
was getting raggy about my prep.” 

“ You might make me one for my birthday! ” 
begged Evie. 

“ Certainly not ! Those that ask shan’t 
have!” 

“ Well, couldn’t you do some during the Christ- 
mas holidays? ” 

“ No, I can’t and shan’t ! ” snapped Fil. “ I’m 
sick to death of making booklets, and I’m not go- 
ing to touch one of them during the holidays. 
You seem to think I’ve nothing else to do ex- 


The Rainbow League 

cept cut bits out of magazines for your ben- 
efit!” 

“There! There! Poor old sport! Don’t 
get baity! ” 

“ You shouldn’t do them so jolly well, and then 
you wouldn’t get asked! ” 

The stall occupied a position of importance at 
the end of the lecture hall, and the rest of the ex- 
hibits were put round on trestle tables. They 
were what Ingred described as “ a mixed lot.” 
Some of the animals were bulgy in their propor- 
tions, or shaky in their cardboard limbs, the 
wheels of the carts did not quite correspond, the 
windmills were apt to stick, or the puzzles would 
not quite fit. In spite of their imperfections, 
however, they looked attractive, and would, no 
doubt, give great pleasure to the little people who 
were to receive them, and who were hardly likely 
to be very critical of their workmanship. 

To make the afternoon more festive, there was 
to be a tea stall, to which the girls brought contri- 
butions of cakes, and music was to be given from 
the platform, so that the scene might resemble a 
cafe chantant. Ingred had been chosen as one of 
the artistes, and arrayed in her best brown vel- 
veteen dress, witlva new pale-yellow hair ribbon, 
she waited about in her usual agonies of stage 
fright. Learning from Dr. Linton, however im- 
proving it might be to her touch, was hardly con- 


1 62 'A Popular Schoolgirl 

ducive to self-complacency, and, after having suf- 
fered much vituperation for her imperfect ren- 
dering of a piece, it was decidedly appalling to 
have to play it in public, especially with the hor- 
rible possibility that at any moment her master 
might happen to pop in to view the exhibition and 
arrive in time for her performance. 

“ I shall have forty fits if I see him in the room, 
I know I shall! ” she confided to Fil. “ You’ve 
no idea how he scares me. I have my lessons on 
the study piano generally, and if only he would 
sit still I shouldn’t mind, but he will get up and 
prowl about the room, and swing out his arms 
when he’s explaining things; he only just missed 
knocking over that pretty statuette of Venus the 
other day. I’m sure if Miss Burd knew how he 
flourishes about, she wouldn’t let him loose among 
her cherished ornaments I ” 

“ Perhaps he won’t turn up to-day 1 ” 

“ Oh yes ! He said he should make a point of 
buying a toy for his little boy. If I break down 
suddenly in the midst of my piece, you’ll know the 
reason. I’m shaking now.” 

“ Poor old sport 1 Don’t take it so hard ! ” 

By three o’clock the lecture hall was filled with 
what Lilias Ashby (who had undertaken to write 
a report for the school magazine) described as 
“ a distinguished crowd.” Fathers indeed were 
as few and far between as currants in a war pud- 


The Rainbow League 163 

ding, but mothers, aunts, and sisters had re- 
sponded nobly to the invitations, and were being 
conducted round by the girl^ to see their special 
exhibits. 

Mrs. Saxon had been unable to come that after- 
noon, but Quenrede had turned up, looking very 
pretty in a plum-colored hat, and giving herself 
slight airs as of one who is now a finished young 
lady, and no longer a mere schoolgirl. She chat- 
ted, in rather mincing tones, to Miss Burd herself, 
while Ingred stood by in awe and amazement, and 
when she bought a cup of tea from Doreen Hay- 
ward at the refreshment stall, she murmured: 
“ Oh, thanks so much ! ” with the manner of a 
patroness, though only six months ago she and 
Do/een had sat side by side in the Science Lectures. 
It was a new phase of Quenrede, which, though 
accepted to some extent at home, had never shown 
itself before with quite such aggravated symp- 
toms. 

Ingred, walking as it were in her shadow, was 
not sure whether to admire or laugh. It was, of 
course, something to have such a pretty and de- 
cidedly stylish sister ; she appreciated the angle at 
which the plum-colored hat was set, and the self- 
restraint that made the tiny iced bun last such an 
enormous time, when a schoolgirl would have 
finished it in three bites, and have taken another. 
A grand manner was certainly rather an asset to 


1 64 A Popular Schoolgirl 

the family, and Queenie was palpably impressing 
some of the intermediates, who poked each other 
to look at her. 

“ It’s my turn to play soon, and I’m just shiv- 
ering! ” whispered Ingred. 

“ Nonsense, child ! Don’t be such a little 
goose ! ” declared her sister airily. “ It’s only a 
school party — there’s really nothing to make a 
fuss about! ” 

“ Only a school party ! ” That seemed to 
Ingred the absolute limit. Quenrede last term 
had, in her turn, shivered and trembled when she 
had been obliged to mount the platform ! Could 
a few short months have indeed effected so mag- 
nificent a change of front 

“ All the same, it’s I who’ve got to play, not 
she! It’s easy enough to tell somebody else not 
to mind,” thought Ingred, as, in answer to Miss 
Clough’s beckoning finger, she made her way to- 
wards the piano to undergo her ordeal. 

One point in favor of the recital was that the 
audience moved about the room and went on buy- 
ing toys or cups of tea and cakes, and even talking, 
instead of sitting on rows of seats doing nothing 
but watching and listening. It was rather com- 
forting to think that the concert was really only 
like the performance of a band, a soothing ac- 
companiment to conversation. Ingred opened 
her music with an almost “ don’t care ” feeling. 


The Rainbow League 165 

For one delirious moment she felt at her ease, 
then, alack! her mood suddenly changed. In a 
last lightning glance towards the audience she no- 
ticed among the crowd near the tea-stall the tall 
thin figure, cadaverous face, and long lank hair 
of Dr. Linton. The sight instantly wrecked her 
world of composure. If it had not been for the 
fact that Miss Clough was standing near, and 
nodding to her to begin, she would have run away 
from the platform. 

“ Oh, the ill luck of it ! ” she thought. “ If I 
had only played last time, instead of Gertie, I’d 
have had it over before he came into the room! 
I know he’ll be just listening to every note, and 
criticizing! ” 

With a horrid feeling, as if her breath would 
not come properly, and her head was slightly 
spinning, and her hands dithering, Ingred began 
her “ Nocturne,” trying with a sort of “ drown- 
ing ” effort to keep her mind on the music in front 
of her, instead of on the music-master at the 
other end of the room. For sixteen bars she suc- 
ceeded, then came the hitch. She had rejected 
the offered services of Doris Grainger, and had 
elected to turn over her own pages. She now 
made a hasty dash at the leaf, her trembling hand 
was not sufficiently agile, the sheet slipped, she 
grabbed in vain, and the music fluttered on to the 
floor. The performance came to a dead halt. 


i66 'A Popular Schoolgirl 

Doris and Miss Clough rushed to the rescue, but 
they were put politely aside by a tall figure who 
stepped on to the platform, and Dr. Linton him- 
self picked up the scattered sheets of the unfortu- 
nate “ Nocturne.” He arranged them together 
in order, placed them upon the stand, and, ad- 
dressing his dismayed pupil, said : 

“ Now, then, begin again, and I shall turn over 
for you. Bring out that forte passage properly ! 
Remember there’s a pedal on the piano ! ” 

It was like having a lesson in public. Ingred 
felt too scared to begin, and yet she was too much 
afraid of her master to refuse, so the bigger 
fright prevailed, and — as a cat will swim to es- 
cape an enemy — she dashed at the “ Nocturne.” 
Once restarted, it went magnificently : afterwards, 
she always declared that Dr. Linton must have 
hypnotized her, she was sure her unaided efforts 
could never have rendered it in such style. He 
behaved as if he were conducting an orchestra, 
soothing the piano passages and spurring her on 
to fortissimo efforts, even humming the melody 
in his eccentric fashion, quite unmindful of the 
audience. The enthusiastic applause at the end 
was so evidently for both master and pupil that he 
bowed instinctively in response. 

Ingred, remembering, now the ordeal was over, 
that she was nervous, melted from the platform, 
and left him to receive the laurels. He did a 


167 


The Rainbow League 

characteristic but very kind act, looked round for 
his pupil, and then, perceiving that she had beaten 
a retreat, sat down to the piano himself, and, un- 
asked, gave an encore for her. A solo from Dr. 
Linton was an unexpected treat, especially as he 
was in the mood for music, and played with a sort 
of rapture that carried his listeners into an ethe- 
real world of delicate sounds. Ingred, hidden be- 
hind a protecting barrier of schoolfellows, could 
see all the sylphs dancing and the fairy pipers pip- 
ing as the crisp notes came tripping from his prac- 
tised fingers. At the end she came back as from a 
dream, to realize that she was not in elf-land, but 
in the College Lecture Hall, and that she was 
sitting on a form next to Miss Strong, who held 
on her knee a little red-coated, brown-haired boy 
with Dr. Linton’s unmistakable dark eyes. 

In that instant, as the music ceased, Ingred re- 
ceived quite a sudden and new impression of Miss 
Strong; there was a tender look on the mistress’s 
face, as she held her arm around the child, and 
she whispered something to him that made the 
dark eyes dance. He slipped from her lap, and 
hand in hand they went together towards the toy- 
stall. It was quite a pretty little scene, one of 
those tiny glimpses into other people’s lives that 
we catch occasionally when the veil of their re- 
serve is for a moment held aside. Ingred looked 
after them meditatively. 


1 68 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Shouldn’t have thought the Snark capable of 
it,” she ruminated. “ Perhaps she likes boys bet- 
ter than girls. Some people do.” 

The toy stall, though half depleted of its con- 
tents, was still the center of attraction. Lispeth 
and Althea were displaying what were left of its 
windmills and whirligigs to friends who bpught 
with an eye to Christmas presents. Miss Strong, 
reckless in the matter of expense, purchased the 
chef-d’ asuvre of the whole collection — a wonder- 
ful contrivance consisting of two cardboard towers 
and a courtyard, across which, by means of a tape 
wound round bobbins, and turned by a handle, 
walked a miniature procession of wooden soldiers. 
Little Kenneth Linton received it with open arms. 

“ Better let me wrap it up in paper,” urged 
Lispeth. “ Somebody said just now that it’s be- 
ginning to snow, and you don’t want to have it 
spoilt before you get it home, do you ? ” 

“ N-no,” said Kenneth, relinquishing it doubt- 
fully. 

“ You’re a lucky boy,” continued Lispeth, as 
she made up the parcel. ” Isn’t that a Teddy 
Bear in your pocket? And a ball too? There, I 
believe I’ve used up all the string! What a nui- 
sance ! Can anybody get me any from any- 
where? ” 

“ I’ll find you some in half a jiff,” said Dorrie 
Barnes, whisking off immediately. 


169 


The Rainbow League 

Since the formation of the Junior Rainbow 
League, Dorrie had taken a liking to Lispeth which 
amounted to absolute infatuation. She followed 
her like a pink-faced shadow, and was always at 
her elbow, sometimes at convenient and. some- 
times at embarrassing moments. She fled now, 
like a messenger from Olympus, with the fixed 
determination of procuring string for her goddess 
from somewhere. It was not an easy task, for 
string was a scarce commodity; what there was of 
it had mostly been already used, and what was 
left was jealously guarded by its proprietresses, 
who refused to part with it, even on the plea that 
it was for the head prefect. Dorrie, however, 
was a young person of spirit and resource, and she 
did not mean to be done. One of the trestles 
that supported the secondary exhibits of toys had 
rather come to grief, and had been patched up 
temporarily with stout twine. Her sharp eyes 
had noted this fact, so, going down on her hands 
and knees, she managed to creep unobserved under 
the table, cut the twine with her penknife, and un- 
wound it. She was just congratulating herself 
upon the success of her achievement when the un- 
expected happened, or, rather, what might have 
been expected by any one with an ounce of fore- 
thought. The damaged trestle, no longer held 
together, promptly gave way, and the table col- 
lapsed, burying a squealing Dorrie amid a shower 


170 A Popular Schoolgirl 


of toys. She was pulled out, agitated but unin- 
jured, and the scattered exhibits were carried to 
another table. In the confusion of their transit 
she managed to secrete the piece of twine, the loss 
of which had been the cause of the whole upset, 
and presented it quite innocently to Lispeth, who, 
not knowing that she was receiving stolen goods, 
thanked her and tied the parcel. Ingred, who had 
watched the whole comedy, laughed, but did not 
give away the secret. 

“ That child’s an imp ! ” she said to Quenrede. 
“ But she’s a very accomplished imp. I’ll tell you 
the joke afterwards, not now! Lispeth little 
knows where her string comes from, and she’s 
wrapping up that parcel so placidly! Isn’t the 
Snark looking quite pretty this afternoon? 
Never saw her with such a color ! Well, if you’re 
ready, Queenie, we’ll go over to the hostel and get 
my things. We can just catch the four o’clock 
train, if we’re quick. Wait half a sec., though! 
There goes Dr. Linton with Kenneth. I don’t 
want to walk out under his wing! ” 

The tall dark figure of the music master was 
striding through the doorway, carrying his small 
son, who hugged his toy with one arm, and waved 
a friendly good-by with the other. 

“ What possessed you to drop all your music, 
child?” said Quenrede, rather patronizingly to 
Ingred. She was still trying to live up to the 


The Rainbow League 171 

plum-colored hat. “ You played ever so decently 
afterwards, though — you did, really ! Don’t 
tell me again that you’re nervous, for it’s all rub- 
bish. You looked as if you enjoyed it.” 

“ Enjoyed it ! ” echoed Ingred. “ If you’d 
gone through the palpitations that I felt this after- 
noon you’d want to go to a specialist, and consult 
him for heart trouble ! I’ve lived through it this 
once, but if I’m ever asked to play again in public, 
you’d better go to the cemetery beforehand, and 
choose a picturesque corner for my grave, and buy 
a weeping willow ready to plant upon it. Yes, 
and order a headstone too, with the simple words : 
‘ Died of fright’ I mean it! ‘Enjoyed it! ’ in- 
deed! Why, I’ve never in the whole of my life 
been in such an absolutely blue funk ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


Quenrede Comes Out 

The Saxon family celebrated Christmas at the 
bungalow with mixed feelings. As Ingred said, 
it was like the curate’s egg — parts of it were very 
nice. It was the first Christmas they had spent 
all together for many years, and if they could only 
have forgotten Rotherwood, and their altered 
circumstances, they would have enjoyed it im- 
mensely. Mrs. Saxon, the unfailing sunshine- 
radiator of the household, tried to ignore the tone 
of discontent in her husband’s voice, the grumpy 
attitude of Egbert, Quenrede’s fit of the blues, and 
Athelstane’s rather martyred pose. She insisted 
on bundling everybody out for a blow on the 
moors. 

“ If we’d been living in Grovebury,” she re- 
marked, “ we should probably have taken a jaunt 
to Wynch-on-the-Wold as a special treat. Let us 
think ourselves lucky in being on the spot and only 
having to turn out of our own door to be at once 
in such lovely scenery. It’s like having a country 
holiday at Christmas instead of midsummer — a 

172 


Quenrede Comes Out i73 

thing I always hankered after and never got be- 
fore!” 

Certainly winter on the wold held a charm of 
its own. The great waste of brown moor stretch- 
ing under the gray sky showed rich patches where 
yellow grass and rushes edged dark boggy pools, 
the low-growing stems of sallows and alders were 
delicate with shades of orange and mauve; here 
and there a sprig of furze lingered in flower, and 
black flights of starlings and fieldfares, driven 
from colder climates in quest of food, swept in 
long lines across the horizon. The weather was 
open for the time of year, the wind strong but not 
too keen, and had it not been for the lowness of 
the sun in the sky the day might have been autumn 
instead of December. It was glorious to walk to 
the top of Wetherstone Heights and see, miles 
away, the spire of Monkswell Church and the 
gleam of the distant river, then to hurry back in 
the gloaming with the rising mists creeping up 
like advancing specters, and to find the lamps 
lighted and tea ready in the cheery bungalow. 
Nobody wanted to quarrel with Yule cake and 
muffins, and even Mr. Saxon temporarily forgot 
his worries and relapsed into quite amusing remin- 
iscences of certain adventures in France. 

If only our spirits would keep up to the point to 
which, with much effort, we screw them, all would 
be well : unfortunately they often have a tiresome 


174 A Popular Schoolgirl 

knack of descending with a run. When tea was 
finished and cleared away Mr. Saxon found the 
presence of his family a hindrance to reading, and 
at a hint from their mother the younger members 
of the party took themselves off into the little 
drawing-room. Here, round a black fire, which, 
despite Hereward’s poking, refused to burn 
brightly, the grumble-cloud that had been lower- 
ing all day burst at last. 

“ If we’d only got the Rotherwood billiard table 
there’d be something to do ! ” groused Egbert 
gloomily. 

“ There isn’t a corner in this poky hole where a 
fellow can fiddle with photography,” chimed in 
Athelstane, “ even if there was time to do it. 
When I get back from Birkshaw it’s nothing but 
grind, grind, grind at medical books all the eve- 
ning.” 

“ Rather have your job than mine, though,” 
said Egbert. “ You haven’t to sit under the 
Pater’s eye all day long, and have him down on 
you like a cartload of bricks if you make the 
slightest slip. I’m the worst off of the whole lot 
of us ! ” 

“What about me at that odious Grammar 
School ? ” asked Hereward, pressing his claims 
to the palm of dissatisfaction. 

“ Or me at the hostel ! ” urged Ingred, not to 
be outdone. 


Quenrede Comes Out i75 

“ I don’t think you, any of you, realize how 
slow it is just to stop at home ! " sighed Quenrede. 
" There were sixteen dozen things I’d made up 
my mind to do, and I can’t do one of them. It’s 
going to be a hateful New Year for all of us — 
just a New Year of going without and scraping 
and saving and economizing — ugh ! What a 
life!” 

“ Life’s mostly what we make it,” said Mother, 
who had quietly joined the circle. “ After all, 
what we think we want doesn’t always give the 
greatest happiness. Suppose each of us tries to 
let this be the best year we’ve ever had? Very 
little in the way of material wealth may come to 
us, but the other kind of wealth is far better worth 
working for. I think this hard time gives us the 
chance to show what we’re made of. During the 
fighting, the lads at the front went steadily 
through severe privations, and the women at home 
worked in the same brave, cheery fashion. Now 
the strain of the war is over, are we going to let 
all this splendid spirit drop? Suppose we fight 
our own battles as we fought our country’s ? Let 
me feel I’ve still got a family of soldiers to be 
proud of.” 

“ You’re the Colonel, then, of the new corps,” 
said Egbert, with an affectionate bear-hug to the 
slight figure that was already making the black 
fire break into a blaze. ” You’ve pluck enough 


176 A Popular Schoolgirl 


for the whole clan, little Mother o’ mine! You 
shall sound your slogan and lead the attack on 
Fate till we get back to Rotherwood ! There I ” 

“ I’m aiming at higher things than Rotherwood, 
darling boy! ” said his mother gravely. 

“I know ! ” whispered Quenrede, squeezing the 
dear hand that reached out and clasped her own. 
“ I won’t be a selfish beast any more. I won’t in- 
deed. Economizing shall be my New Year’s 
cross ! ” 

“ If we’re going to count up crosses,” pro- 
claimed Athelstane humorously, “ the orphan’s 
fine voice while I’m studying is mine ! ” 

“ But she probably counts it her choicest bless- 
ing ! ” exclaimed Ingred. 

And then the whole family broke out laughing, 
and Mother’s little lecture ended in fun. It made 
its impression upon individual members all the 
same. 

The six miles which separated the Saxons from 
Grovebury seemed to have set up an effectual bar- 
rier between them and the old world in which they 
had moved before. Many people who had been 
friendly in the Rotherwood days did not trouble 
to come so far as Wynch-on-the-Wold to pay calls, 
and the numerous invitations which had formerly 
been extended to the young folks decreased this 
Christmas to very few. 

First and foremost amongst these scanty festivi- 


Quenrede Comes Out i77 

ties came Mrs. Desmond’s dance. It was a 
grown-up affair, and she had sent printed invita- 
tions to Egbert, Athelstane and Quenrede. The 
latter, who only knew the Desmonds slightly and 
was always overwhelmed in their presence, de- 
veloped a sudden and acute fit of shyness and im- 
plored to be allowed to refuse. 

“ If it had been the Browns’ or Lawrences’ 
I’d have loved it,” she urged, “ but you know, 
Mumsie, how Mrs. Desmond absolutely withers 
me up ! I never can say six words when she’s 
there. I’d run five miles to avoid meeting her: 
you know I would! She’s so starchy.” 

“ You see very little of your hostess at a dance. 
Don’t be silly, Queenie ! ” insisted Mrs, Saxon. 
“ I say you’re to go, so there’s an end of it.” 

“ I’ll go for an evening’s martyrdom, then, 
not for enjoyment ! ” wailed her daughter dole- 
fully. 

A first grown-up dance is often a terrible ordeal 
to a girl of eighteen, and Quenrede, though she 
had put on a few airs to impress the schoolgirls at 
the Rainbow League sale, was at bottom woefully 
bashful. She was still in the stage when her 
newly-turned-up hair looked as if it were unac- 
customed to be coiled round her head; she had a 
painful habit of blushing, and had not yet acquired 
that general savoir faire which comes to us with 
the passing of our teens. To be plunged for a 


178 A Popular Schoolgirl 

whole evening into the society of a succession of 
strangers seemed to her anything but an exhilarat- 
ing prospect. 

“ If I could just dance with our own boysl ” 
she sighed. 

“ I’d pity you if you did ! ” declared Ingred, 
pausing in an effort to make Athelstane’s steps 
more worthy of a ball-room. “ Why, half the fun 
will be your different partners. I only wish I’d 
your chance and was ‘ coming out ’ too ! ” 

“ I’m sure you’re welcome to go instead of me,” 
proclaimed Quenrede petulantly. 

^11 the same she watched the preparations for 
the event with considerable girlish interest. 
Mother, whose ambitions at first had run to a 
dress from town, regretfully decided that the fam- 
ily finances could only supply a home-made cos- 
tume, and set to work with fashion book and sew- 
ing-machine to act amateur dressmaker, a thrilling 
experience to unaccustomed fingers, for paper pat- 
terns are sometimes difficult to understand, seams 
do not fit together as they ought, and the bottom 
hem of a skirt is the most awkward thing in the 
world to make hang perfectly straight. Quen- 
rede, standing on the table, revolved slowly while 
Mrs. Saxon and Ingred stuck in pins and debated 
whether a quarter of an inch here and there should 
be raised or lowered. Ingred showed far more 
cleverness in sewing than her sister; her natty 


Quenrede Comes Out 179 

fingers could contrive pretty things already in the 
shape of collars and blouses. 

“ You’d make an admirable curate’s wife ! ” 
Quenrede laughingly assured her. " I shall have 
to marry a rich man and get my things from Lon- 
don.” 

“ It will probably be the other way,” declared 
Mother. “ Stand still, Queenie, I can’t measure 
properly if you will dance about ! ” 

Though she was ready with a joke, as a matter 
of fact Quenrede was having a severe struggle not 
to be snappy. For years and years she had 
planned her “ coming out,” and she had decided 
upon a ball at Rotherwood, and an absolute cre- 
ation of a gown that was to be sent for from Paris. 
There would have been some eclat then in emerg- 
ing from the chrysalis stage of the school-room 
and becoming a butterfly of society. To make 
her first grown-up appearance at Mrs. Desmond’s 
dance and in a home-made dress seemed not so 
much a “ coming out ” as an “ oozing out.” 
There are degrees in butterflies, and she feared 
her appearance would resemble not the gorgeous 
“ Red Admiral ” or “ Painted Lady,” but the 
“ Common White Cabbage.” If it had not been 
for the New Year’s resolution, some traces of her 
disappointment would have leaked out, but she 
kept the secret bravely to herself. The family 
indeed knew she was not anxious to go, but set her 


i8o A Popular Schoolgirl 

unwilling attitude down to mere shyness. Her 
mother never guessed at the real reason. 

There was a tremendous robing on the evening 
of January the ninth, with Mother and Ingred for 
lady’s-maids, and “ The Orphan ” hovering about, 
offering to bring pins or hot water on the chance 
of getting a peep at the proceedings. Mrs. Saxon 
stepped back, when all was complete, and viewed 
the result somewhat in the spirit of an artist who 
has finished a picture. It is an event in a mother’s 
life when her first little girl grows up and becomes 
a young lady. To-night Quenrede was to be 
launched on the stream of society. Looked at 
critically, her appearance was very satisfactory. 
Though the new dress might not be up to the level 
of a fashion-plate, it certainly became her, and set 
off the pretty fair face, white neck, and coils of 
gleaming flaxen hair. 

“ Your gloves and shoes and stockings are all 
right, and you’ve got a nice handkerchief, and 
your fan,” reviewed Mother, wrapping an evening 
cloak round her handiwork. “ Good-by, my bird ! 
Enjoy yourself, and don’t be silly and shy.” 

“I shall keep awake till you come back!” 
Ingred assured her. 

It was something at any rate to be going with 
Egbert and Athelstane. Among the stream of 
strangers there would be at least two home ob- 
jects upon which she might occasionally cast 


Quenrede Comes Out 

anchor. The thought of that buoyed her up as 
the taxi whirled them down hill to Grovebury. 

The Desmonds were giving the dance as a com- 
ing-out for one of their own daughters, and their 
house was en fete. An awning protected the 
porch, red cloth carpeted the steps, a marquee 
filled the lawn, and a stringed band from Birk- 
shaw had been engaged to play the latest dance 
music. 

Quenrede passed calmly enough through the 
ordeals of leaving her cloak in the dressing-room 
(where a crowd of girls were prinking, and there 
was no room for even a glance in the mirror), 
and the greeting from her host and hostess in the 
drawing-room. It was in the ball-room after- 
wards that her agony began. Egbert and Athel- 
stane were whisked away from her to be intro- 
duced to other girls, and utter strangers, whose 
names she seldom caught, were brought to her, 
took her program, recorded their initials and 
passed on to book other partners. The few peo- 
ple in the marquee whom she knew were too far 
away or too occupied to speak to her, so she stood 
alone, and heartily wished herself at home. 

It was better when the dancing began, though 
her partners scared her horribly. They all made 
exactly the same remarks about the excellence of 
the floor, the taste of the decorations, and the 
beauty of the music, and asked her if she had been 


i 82 a Popular Schoolgirl 

to the pantomime, and whether she played golf. 
Small talk is an art, and though Quenrede had 
many interests, and in ordinary circumstances 
could have discussed them, to-night she felt 
tongue-tied, and let the ball of conversation drop 
with a “ yes ” or “ no ” or “ very.” Dances with 
strangers who expected her to talk were bad 
enough, but the gaps in her program were worse. 
No doubt Mrs. Desmond tried to look after all 
her guests, but several gentlemen had disappointed 
her at the last minute, and there were not quite 
partners enough to go round. At a young 
people’s party Quenrede would have cheerily 
danced with some other girl in like plight, but at 
this stiff grown-up gathering she dared not suggest 
such an informality, and remained a wallflower. 
She caught glimpses occasionally of Egbert and 
Athelstane, the former apparently enjoying him- 
self, the latter looking as solemn as if he were in 
church. 

” I know the poor boy’s counting his steps and 
trying not to tread on anybody’s toes ! ” thought 
Quenrede. “ Ingred said his pai*tners would have 
to pull him around somehow.” 

Supper was a diversion, for she was taken in by 
quite a nice red-headed boy, a little younger than 
herself, who, after a manful effort to talk up to 
her supposed level, thankfully relapsed into de- 
tails of football-matches. Being a nephew of the 
house, he proved an adept in attracting the most 


Quenrede Comes Out 183 

tempting dishes of fruit or trifle to their particu- 
lar table, and even basely commandeered other 
people’s crackers for her benefit. She bade him 
good-by with regret. 

“ I say, I wish my card wasn’t full ! I’d have 
liked a dance with you I ” he murmured wistfully 
as they left the supper-room. 

If only she had known people better, and the at- 
mosphere had not seemed so stiff and formal, and 
she had not been so miserably shy, Quenrede 
might have enjoyed herself. As it was she be- 
gan counting the hours. In one of the wallflower 
gaps of her program she took a stroll into the 
conservatory. It looked like fairyland with the 
colored lanterns hanging among the palms and 
flowers. Somebody else was apparently enjoy- 
ing the pretty effect — somebody who turned 
round rather guiltily as if he were caught; then 
at sight of her smiled in relief. 

“ I thought you were one of my hostesses come 
to round me up to do my duty,” he confessed. 
“ I’m a duffer at dancing, so I’ve taken cover in 
here. I see you don’t remember me, but we’ve 
met before — at Red Ridge Barrow. My name’s 
Broughten.” 

“ Why, of course! You had a piece of candle 
and showed us inside the mound. I ought to have 
known you again, but — you look so differ- 
ent ” 


I §4 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ In evening dress! So do you; but I recog- 
nized you in a minute. Look here” (in sudden 
compunction), “ am I keeping you from a part- 
ner?” 

“ No more than I am keeping you ! ” twinkled 
Quenrede, pointing to the empty line on her pro- 
gram. “ I’m not dancing this, so I came here to 
— to enjoy myself.” 

Her companion laughed in swift comprehen- 
sion. 

“ I don’t know how other people may find it,” 
he confided, “ but hour after hour of this sort of 
thing gets on my nerves. A tramp over the moor 
is far more my line of amusement. I was wish- 
ing I might go home 1 ” 

“ So was I!” 

“ But there’s still at least another hour and a 
half.” 

” With extras, more ! ” admitted Quenrede. 

He held out his hand for her program. “ I’m 
an idiot at dancing, but would you mind sitting 
out a few with me? ” 

“ If you won’t talk about the floor and the dec- 
orations and the band, and ask me whether I’ve 
been to the pantomime, or if I like golf 1 ” 

“ I promise that those topics shall be utterly 
and absolutely taboo. I’m sick of them myself.” 

Quenrede’s shyness, which was only an outer 
casing, had suddenly disappeared in the presence 


Quenrede Comes Out 185 

of a fellow-victim of social conventions, and con- 
versation came easily, all the more so after being 
pent-up all the evening. Henry Desmond, wan- 
dering into the conservatory presently, remarked 
to his partner, sotto voce : 

“ That Saxon girl’s chattering sixteen to the 
dozen now ! Couldn’t get a word out of her my- 
self ! ” 

When Quenrede, sometime about five o’clock 
in the morning, tried to creep stealthily to bed 
without disturbing her sister, Ingred, refreshed 
by half a night’s sleep, sat up wide awake and de- 
manded details. 

“ Shi Sh ! Mother said we weren’t to talk 
now, and I must tell you everything afterwards. 
Oh, I got on better than I expected, though most 
of the people were rather starchy. How did my 
dress look? Well — promise you won’t breathe 
a word to darling Mother — it was just passable, 
and that’s all. Some girls had lovely things. I 
didn’t care. The second part of the evening was 
far nicer than the first, and I enjoyed the dances 
that I sat out the most. The conservatory was 
all hung with lanterns. There; I’m dead tired 
and I want to go to sleep. Good-night, dear! ” 

“But you’ve ‘come out!’” said Ingred with 
satisfaction as she subsided under her eiderdown. 

“ Oh yes. I’m most decidedly ‘ out,’ ” murmured 
Quenrede. 


CHAPTER XIV 


The Peep-hole 

The Foursome League met in Dormitory 2 
after the holidays with much clattering of tongues. 
Each wanted to tell her own experience, and they 
all talked at once. Fil had a new way of doing 
her hair, and gave the others no peace till they 
had duly realized and appreciated it. Verity had 
been bridesmaid to a cousin, and wished to give 
full details of the wedding; Nora had played 
hockey in a Scotch team against a Ladies’ Club, 
and had been promised ten minutes in an aero- 
plane, but the weather had been too stormy for 
the flight; the disappointment — when she hap- 
pened to remember it — quite weighed down her 
spirits. 

“ If there’s one thing on earth — or rather on 
air — I’d like to be, it’s a flying woman!” she 
told her friends emphatically. “ I’m hoping aero- 
planes will get a little cheaper some day, and rich 
people will keep them instead of motor cars. 
Then I’ll go out as an aviatress. It’s a new 
career for women.” 


186 


The Peep-hole 187 

“ I wouldn’t trust myself to your tender mer- 
cies, thank you !” shuddered Ingred. “ You’d 
soon bring the machine down with a crash, and 
smash us to smithereens.” 

“ Indeed I shouldn’t ! I’d go sailing about 
like a bird ! ” 

And Nora, suiting action to words, stood on her 
bed fluttering her arms, till Verity wickedly gave 
her a push behind, and sent her springing with 
more force than grace to the floor. 

“ You Jumbo! You make the room shake! ” 
exclaimed Ingred. “If that’s how you’re going 
to land you’ll dig a hole in the ground like a 
bomb ! Do move out, and let me get to my 
drawer! You’re growing too big for this bed- 
room ! ” 

“ Nobody’s looked at my new hair ribbons 
yet!” interposed Fil’s plaintive voice. “See, 
I’ve got six! Aren’t they beauties! Pale pink, 
pale blue, Saxe blue, navy for my gym. costume, 
black for a useful one, and olive green to go with 
my velveteen Sunday dress. Don’t you think 
they’re nice?” 

“Ripping!” agreed Nora. “We’ll know 
where to go when we want to borrow. There, 
don’t look so scared. Baby! I’ve chopped my 
hair so short I couldn’t wear a ribbon if I tried ! 
It would be off in three cracks ! Stick them back 
in their box, and don’t tempt me ! They’re not in 


1 88 A Popular Schoolgirl 

my line! I’m going in for uniform. You'rt the 
sort who wears chiffons and laces and all the rest 
of it, but you’ll see me in gilt buttons before I 
have done, with wings on them, I hope! I may 
be the first to fly to Mars! Who knows? You 
shall all have my photo beforehand just in case ! ” 

Everybody at the College, and particularly at 
the Hostel, agreed that the first few weeks of the 
new term were trying. After the interval of the 
holidays, the yoke of home-work seemed doubly 
heavy, and undoubtedly the prep, was stiffer than 
ever. Only certain hours were set apart for 
study during the evenings at the hostel, and any 
girl who could not accomplish her lessons in that 
time had to finish them as best she could in odd 
minutes during the day, or even in bed in the 
mornings if she happened to wake sufficiently 
early. Fil, who generally succeeded in mastering 
about half her preparation and no more, railed at 
fate. 

“ I’m so unlucky ! ” she sighed to a sympathetic 
audience in No. 2. “ I knew the first ten lines of 

my French poetry beautifully, and I could have 
said them if Mademoiselle had asked me, but of 
course she didn’t. She set me on those wretched 
irregular verbs, and they always floor me utterly. 
As for the ‘ dictee ’ — I can’t spell in English — 
let alone French! It’s not the least use for 
Mademoiselle to get excited and stamp her foot 


189 


The Peep-hole 

at me. I shall be glad when Fm old enough to 
leave school. I never mean to look at a French 
book again ! ” 

“How about English spelling?” suggested 
Ingred. “ You’ll want to write a letter occasion- 
ally!” 

“ I think by that time,” said Fil hopefully, 
“ somebody will have invented a typewriter that 
can spell for itself. You’ll just press a knob for 
each word, you know! ” 

“ There are about 3000 words in common 
daily use ! ” laughed Verity. “ If you need a 
knob for each, your typewriter will have to be the 
size of a church organ. It’ll want a room to 
itself!” 

“ Oh, but think of the convenience of it ! No 
more hunting in the dictionary! ” declared Fil. 

To add to the aggravations of the new term the 
weather was doubtful, and seemed to take a spite- 
ful pleasure in being particularly wet on hockey 
afternoons. Day after day, disappointed girls 
would watch the streaming rain and lament the 
lack of practice. To give them some form of 
exercise they were assembled In the gymnasium, 
and held rival displays of Indian clubs, Morris 
dancing, or even skipping. “ The True Blues ” 
excelled at high jumping, “ The Pioneers ” at cer- 
tain rigid balancing feats, “ The Old Brigade ” 
were great at vaulting, and “ The Amazons ” and 


190 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“The Mermaids ” performed marvels in the way 
of Swedish Boom exercises. 

Still, everybody agreed that though the con- 
tests were fun in their way they were not hockey, 
and the girls would much have preferred the play- 
ing-fields, however wet, to the gymnasium. 

The girls in the hostel had the hour between 
four and five o’clock at their own disposal. They 
were not allowed to leave the College bounds, but 
they might amuse themselves as they pleased in 
the garden, play-ground, or gymnasium. In 
turns, according to the practising list, they had to 
devote the time to the piano, and a few even be- 
gan their prep., though this was not greatly en- 
couraged by Miss Burd, who thought a short 
brain rest advisable. One afternoon Ingred 
walked along the corridor with a big pile of music 
in her arms. Just outside the study she met Ver- 
ity, and saluted her : 

“ Cheerio, old sport ! Here’s Dr. Linton left 
his whole cargo behind him to-day. He rushed 
off in a hurry and forgot it, and I know he’ll be 
just raging. I’m going to ask Miss Burd if I 
may run over into the Abbey and leave it on the 
organ for him. He has a choir practice to-night, 
so he’s sure to find it. Will you come with me? 
Right-0 ! We’ll both go in and ask ‘ exeats.’ ’’ 

The College was erected upon a plot of land 
which had originally been part of the Abbey 


The Peep-hole 19 1 

grounds. All the old buildings, formerly inhab- 
ited by the monks of St. Bidulph’s, and by the 
nuns in the adjoining convent of St. Mary’s, had 
long ago been swept away, and only a few ruined 
walls marked their sites. The nave of the Abbey, 
however, had escaped, and was still in use as a 
parish church, though the beautiful original chan- 
cel and transepts had been battered down by 
Henry the Eighth’s Commissioners. It was only 
few hundred yards from the school to the Abbey, 
and Miss Burd readily gave the girls permission 
to take Dr. Linton’s music and leave it for him 
on the organ. It was the first time either of 
them had been inside the church when no service 
was going on, and they looked round curiously. 
The organ was locked, or Ingred would certainly 
never have resisted the temptation to put on the 
fascinating stops and pedals. She tried to lift the 
lid that hid the keyboards, but with no success. 

“ He might have left it open ! ” she sighed. 

“ But the verger would come fussing up directly 
you began to play,” said Verity. 

“ I don’t see the verger anywhere about.” 

“ Why, no more do I, now you mention it.” 

“ Perhaps he’s slipped across to his cottage to 
have his tea ! ” 

“ Perhaps. I say, Ingred, what a gorgeous op- 
portunity to explore. Let’s look round a little on 
our own.” 


192 A Popular Schoolgirl 

There was nobody to forbid, so they started on 
a tour of inspection. The places they wanted to 
look at were those that ordinary church-goers 
never have a chance of seeing. They peeped into 
the choir vestry, and Verity gave rather a gasp at 
the sight of an array of white surplices hanging 
on the wall like a row of ghosts. They went 
down a narrow flight of damp steps into a dark 
place where the coke was kept, they peered into 
a dusty recess behind the organ, and into a roont 
under the tower, where spare chairs were stored. 
All this was immensely interesting, but did not 
quite content them. Verity’s ambition soared 
farther. Very high up on the wall, above the 
glorious pillars, and just under the clerestory win- 
dows, was a narrow passage called the Nuns’ 
Ambulatory. It had been built in the long-ago 
ages to provide exercise for the sisters in the ad- 
joining convent, to which a covered way had 
originally led. 

“ Just think of the poor dears parading round 
there on wet days when they couldn’t walk in their 
own garden!” said Verity, turning her head al- 
most upside down in her efforts to scan the pas- 
sage. “ I wonder if they ever felt giddy.” 

“ There’s a balustrade, of course, but I prefer 
our modern gym. I believe there’s a walk all 
over the roof too. Athelstane went up once. 
He said it was like being on the top of a mountain, 
and you could look all over the town.” 


193 


The Peep-hole 

“ What’s that queer stone box thing on the 
wall? ” asked Verity, still gazing upwards. 

Ingred followed the line of her friend’s eye to 
a point above the pillars but below the Nuns’ 
Ambulatory. Here, built out like an oriel win- 
dow, was a curious closed-in-gallery of stone, 
pierced in places by tiny frets. It seemed to have 
nothing to do with the architecture of the Abbey, 
and indeed to be a sort of excrescence which had 
been added to it at some later date. It spoilt the 
beauty of line, and would have been better re- 
moved. 

“ Oh, that’s the peep-hole ! ” said Ingred, low- 
ering her head, for it was painful to stretch her 
neck in so uncomfortable a position. “ It was put 
up in the seventeenth century, when the whole 
place was full of those old-fashioned high pews. 
People were very dishonest in those days, and 
thieves used to come to church on purpose to pick 
pockets. So they always used to keep somebody 
stationed up there, looking down through the 
holes over the congregation to see that no purses 
were taken during the service. Nice state of 
things, wasn’t it? ” 

“ Rather ! But I’d love to go up there. I 
say, the verger’s still at his tea. Shall we try? ” 

“ Right-0 ! I’m game if you are I ” 

By the north porch there was a small oak door 
studded with nails. Generally this was kept 


194 'A Popular Schoolgirl 


locked, but to-day, by a miracle of good fortune, 
it happened to be open. It was, of course, a very 
unorthodox thing for the verger to go away and 
leave the Abbey unattended, even for half an 
hour, but vergers, after all, are only human, and 
enjoy a cup of tea as much as other people who 
do not wear black cassocks. He was safely 
seated by the fireside in his ivy-colored cottage at 
the other side of the churchyard, so the girls 
seized their golden opportunity. They went up 
and up and up, along a winding staircase for an 
interminable way. It was dark, and the steps 
were worn with the tread of seven centuries, and 
here and there was a broken bit over which they 
had to clamber with care. At last, after what 
seemed like mounting the Tower of Babel, they 
stumbled up through a narrow doorway into the 
most extraordinary place in the world. They 
were in the garret of the roof over the south aisle. 
Above them were enormous beams or rafters, and 
below, a rough flooring. It was very dim and 
dusky, but about midway shone a bright shaft of 
light evidently from some communication with the 
interior of the nave. Towards this they directed 
their steps. It was a difficult progress owing to 
the huge rafters that supported the roof. A 
plank pathway about four feet above the floor 
had been laid across the beams, and along this 
Ingred decided to venture. 


195 


The Peep-hole 

She started, balancing herself with her arms, 
and kept her equilibrium, though the plank was 
narrow and sprang as she walked. Verity, who 
had no head for such achievements, preferred to 
scramble along the floor, creeping under the raf- 
ters, in spite of the thick dust of years that lay 
there. Eventually they both reached the radius 
of light, and found another doorway leading down 
by a few steps into what was apparently a cup- 
board. In the wall of the cupboard, however, 
were frets through which the sunlight was stream- 
ing. Ingred applied an eye and gave a gasp of 
satisfaction. 

They were in the peep-hole on the wall of the 
nave, and could gaze straight down into the church 
below. It was marvellous what an excellent view 
they obtained. Nothing was hidden, not even 
the interiors of the old-fashioned square pews 
that had lingered as a relic of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. Anybody stationed in this spy-box would 
certainly be able to keep guard over the congrega- 
tion, and note any nefarious designs on the pock- 
ets of the worshipers. 

For the moment the church was empty, then 
foot-steps were audible in the porch. Was it the 
verger returning from his tea? The girls began 
to flutter at the prospect of his wrath if he dis- 
covered them. It was was no cassock-clad verger 
that entered, however, but two young people, far 


196 A Popular Schoolgirl 

too much interested in each other to gaze upwards 
towards the frets of the peep-hole. They 
thought they had the church to themselves, and 
walked along conversing in a low tone. The par- 
ticular shade of flaxen hair in the masculine figure 
seemed familiar, and Ingred chuckled as she recog- 
nized her eldest brother. 

“ Caught you, old boy! Caught you neatly! ” 
she thought. “Who’s the girl? Oh, I know. 
It’s one of the Bertrands — Queenie said they 
were at the Desmonds’ dance, so I suppose he met 
her there. What a priceless joke ! How I shall 
crow over him for this! They’re actually going 
to sit down in a pew and talk! Well, this is the 
limit! ” 

Quite unconscious that sisterly eyes were watch- 
ing, Egbert ushered his fair partner into one of 
the old-fashioned square pews. It was a quiet 
place to rest, and perhaps the young lady was 
tired. He sat by her side, very much occupied in 
explaining something which the girls in the peep- 
hole could not overhear. At last the quiet well- 
trained footsteps of the verger echoed again in 
the nave. He glanced at the young couple in the 
pew, and began to dust and rearrange the hymn- 
books. Egbert and Miss Bertrand took the hint 
and departed. 

The pair spying through the fretwork above 
also judged it expedient to beat a hasty retreat. 
They were terrified lest the verger should remem- 
ber that he had left the tower door open, and 


197 


The Peep-hole 

should lock them in. They stumbled back among 
the rafters, regardless of dust, and groped their 
rather perilous way down the winding staircase. 
To their infinite relief the door was not shut, and 
they were able to creep quietly out and bolt from 
the Abbey unperceived. They fled along the 
stone path that edged the churchyard, then stop- 
ped under the shelter of a ruined wall to brush 
the dust off their dresses before re-entering the 
College. 

“ It’s been quite an adventure! ” gasped Verity. 

“ Rather ! Particularly catching old Egbert. 
Won’t he look silly when I bring it out before the 
family? I don’t know whether I will tell them, 
though ! I think I’ll keep it back, so as to have 
something to hold over his head when he teases 
me. Yes, that would be far more fun, really. I 
can hint darkly that I know one of his secrets, and 
he’ll be so puzzled. I don’t admire his taste 
much. Queenie detests those Bertrand girls. I 
don’t know them myself to speak to, but I’m not 
impressed. Look here, the dust simply won’t 
come off your skirt. Verity! ” 

“ It’ll do as it is, then, and I’ll use the clothes 
brush afterwards. Don’t worry any more. 
There’s the Abbey clock striking five ! It’s a few 
minutes fast, fortunately, but we shall simply have 
to sprint, or we shall be late for tea ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 


Brotherly Breezes 

There was no doubt that Egbert was the odd 
one in the Saxon family. He had inherited a 
testy strain of temper, and was frequently most 
obstinate and perverse. It was unfortunate that 
he was an articled pupil in his father’s office, for 
he fretted and tried Mr. Saxon far more than 
Athelstane would have done in the circumstances. 
Egbert’s saving quality was his intense love for his 
mother. Her influence held him steadily to his 
work, and smoothed over many difficult situations. 
He was apt to quarrel with Quenrede, but he had 
a soft corner for Ingred, and sometimes made 
rather a pet of her. 

A few days after the incident at the Abbey he 
turned up at school, to her immense astonishment, 
and asked leave from Miss Burd to take her out 
to tea at a cafe. It had been an old promise on 
his part, ever since Ingred went to the hostel, but 
it had hung fire so long that she had come to re- 
gard it as one of those piecrust promises that 
elder members of a family frequently make, and 


199 


Brotherly Breezes 

never find it convenient to carry out. She had 
reminded Egbert of it at intervals all through the 
autumn term, then had given it up as “ a bad 
job.” To find him waiting for her in Miss Burd’s 
study, ready to escort her to the Alhambra tea- 
rooms, seemed like a fairy tale come true. She 
whisked off at once to make the best possible toilet 
in the circumstances, and reappeared smilingly 
ready. When you have tea every day at a long 
table full of girls, the meal is apt to grow monot- 
onous, and it was a welcome change to take it 
instead in a gay Oriental room with Moorish 
decorations and luxurious arm-chairs, and a plat- 
form In a corner, where musicians were giving a 
capital concert. Ingred leaned back on an em- 
broidered cushion and ate cakes covered with 
pink sugar, and listened to a violin solo followed 
by some charming songs, and watched the gay 
crowd sitting at the other small tables. It was 
really delightful to be out just with Egbert alone. 
It made her feel almost grown-up. Moreover, 
he was in such a remarkably generous mood. He 
set no limit to the supply of cakes, and he stopped 
at the counter as they went downstairs and bought 
her a box of chocolates and a large packet of 
Edinburgh rock. He even went further, for as 
they walked round the square together, and 
looked into the window of a fancy shop, he told 
her to choose her birthday present, and agreed 


200 A’ Popular Schoolgirl 

amicably when she selected a morocco-leather bag 
which was for the moment the summit of her 
dreams. She parted from him at the College 
gates in deepest gratitude. This was indeed 
something like a brother ! 

“ You’re an absolute trump ! ” she assured him. 

“ Well, a fellow’s always got a decent sister to 
take about, anyway,” he replied enigmatically, a 
remark over which Ingred pondered, but could not 
fathom. 

She mentioned the jaunt at the family supper- 
table on Friday evening. To her immense sur- 
prise her innocent remark had somewhat the ef- 
fect of a bomb. Mr. Saxon turned to his son with 
a sudden keen expression, as if he had convicted 
him of a crime. Mrs. Saxon’s face also was full 
of suppressed meaning, while Egbert colored furi- 
ously, looked thunderous at his sister, and re- 
lapsed into sulky silence. Poor Ingred felt that 
she had, quite unconsciously, put her foot in it, 
though how or why she could not tell. She said 
no more at the time, and when, afterwards, she 
ventured to refer again to the subject, she was so 
tremendously shut up that she saw clearly it was 
discreet to make no further inquiry. Plainly 
there was some tremendous quarrel between Eg- 
bert and his father, for they were barely on speak- 
ing terms. 

Mr. Saxon threw out occasional inuendoes that 
caused his son finally to stump from the room. 


201 


Brotherly Breezes 

Mrs. Saxon went about with a cloud of distress on 
her face, and Quenrede, to whom Ingred applied 
for enlightenment, promptly and pointedly 
changed the subject. It was miserably uncom- 
fortable, for father and son were like two Leyden 
jars charged with electricity, and ready to let fly 
at any moment. It was only the mother’s influ- 
ence that averted a family thunderstorm. Athel- 
stane, too, seemed in the depths of gloom. He 
was willing, however, to communicate his woes. 

“ I want a whole heap more medical books,” he 
confided to his sister, “ and Dad says he can’t get 
them, and I must manage without. How on 
earth can I manage without. What’s the use of 
my going to College if I haven’t the proper text- 
books? I can’t always be borrowing. If I fail 
in my exams, it will be his fault, not mine. He’s 
the most absolutely unreasonable man anybody 
could have to deal with. Of course I know 
they’re expensive, and funds are low, but I’ve 
simply got to have them, or chuck up medicine ! ” 

“ It’s so terrible to be poor ! ” sighed Quen- 
rede, thinking of the old, happy pre-war days at 
Rotherwood, when everything came so easily, and 
there were no struggles to make ends meet. 

She talked the matter over afterwards with 
Ingred. 

‘‘ If I could only help somehow ! ” she mourned. 
“ I’ve often thought I might go out and earn 


202 A Popular Schoolgirl 

something, but Mother’s not strong, and I really 
do a great deal in the house. If I went away and 
left her with only ^ The Orphan,’ she’d be laid up 
in a fortnight. As it is, she tries to do far too 
much. How could we possibly get some money 
for Athelstane’s books? We’d rather die than 
ask our friends ! ” 

Ingred shook her head sadly. Wild ideas 
surged through her mind of disguising herself 
and sweeping a crossing — there were stories of 
wealthy crossing-sweepers — or rivaling Charlie 
Chaplin on the cinema stage, but somehow they 
did not seem quite practicable for a girl of six- 
teen. She left Quenrede’s question unanswered. 
It was only late on Saturday afternoon that a 
great idea came to her. Great — but so over- 
whelming that she winced at the bare notion. It 
was as if some inner voice said to her: “Sell 
Derry!” Now Derry, the fox terrier, was her 
very own property. He had been given to her 
two years before by a cousin as a birthday pres- 
ent. He was of prize breed, and had brought 
his pedigree with him. He was a smart, bright 
little fellow, and on the whole a favorite in the 
household, though he sometimes got into trouble 
for jumping on to the best chairs and leaving his 
hairs on the cushions. It had never particularly 
struck Ingred that Derry was of value, until last 
week, when Mr. Hardcastle noticed him. Rela- 


203 


Brotherly Breezes 

tions with that precise old neighbor next door had 
been rather strained for a long time, since the 
unfortunate episode when Hereward had unwit- 
tingly discharged the contents of the garden 
syringe in his face. For months he studiously 
avoided them, calling his collie away with quite 
unnecessary caution if they happened to pass him 
on the road, and bolting into his own premises if 
they met near the gate. But one day, about 
Christmas-time, Sam, the collie, who was a giddy 
and irresponsible sort of dog, given to aimless 
yapping at passing conveyances, overdid his sup- 
posed guardianship of his owner’s property, and 
blundered into a motor that was whisking by. 
The car did not trouble to stop, and when it was 
a hundred yards away, Sam picked himself up 
and limped on three legs to show his bleeding paw 
to his agitated master. Fortunately Athelstane, 
from the bungalow garden, had witnessed the ac- 
cident, and came forward like a Good Samaritan 
with offers of help. His elementary acquaintance 
with surgery stood him in good stead, and he 
neatly set the injured limb, and bound it up with 
splints and plaster. There had been many in- 
quiries over the hedge as to the invalid’s progress, 
and congratulations when the bandages were able 
at last to be removed. Old Mr. Hardcastle had 
waxed quite friendly as he expressed his thanks, 
and one day, catching Ingred by the gate with 


204 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Derry, he had volunteered the information that 
“ that fox terrier of yours is a fine dog, and no mis- 
take, and would be worth something to a fancier ! ” 
“ Sell Derry ! ” the idea, though she hated it, 
had taken possession of Ingred’s brain. He was 
the only thing she had that was of marketable 
value. To part with the poor little fellow would 
be like selling her birthright, but, after all, broth- 
ers came first, and how could Athelstane study 
without books? Something Mother had said the 
other day clamored in her memory. “ If we’ve 
lost our fortune we’ve got our family intact, and 
we must stick tight together, and be ready to make 
sacrifices for one another.” Ingred had quite 
made up her mind. She put on her hat, took 
Derry from his cozy place by the kitchen fire, 
kissed his nose, and, carrying him in her arms, 
walked to the next-door house, rang the bell, and 
asked to see Mr. Hardcastle. 

She found the old gentleman in a cozy dining- 
room, seated by a cheery fire, and reading the 
evening paper. He looked a little astonished 
when she was ushered in, but received her politely, 
as if it was quite a matter of course for a young 
lady, hugging a dog, to pay him an afternoon visit. 

Ingred put Derry down on the hearth rug, took 
the arm-chair that was offered her, and with a 
beating heart and a very high color plunged into 
business, and inquired if it were possible to find a 


205 


Brotherly Breezes 

fancier who wished to buy a prize fox terrier. 

“I’ve his pedigree here,” she finished, “and 
he really is a nice little dog. If you know of any- 
body, I’d be so glad if you would tell me please ! ” 

Mr. Hardcastle, evidently much electrified, 
knitted his bushy eyebrows in thought, and pursed 
his mouth into a button. 

“ There was a vet. in Grovesbury who told me 
a while ago that he wanted one, but I saw him 
yesterday, and he said he had just bought one, so 
that’s no good! You might try the advertise- 
ments in The Bazaar. He looks a bright little 
chap. Why are you in such a panic to get rid 
of him? Been killing chickens?” 

“No,” said Ingred, turning pinker still; “it 
isn’t that — I don’t want to sell him, of course — 
only — only — — ” 

And then to her extreme annoyance, her 
brimming eyes overflowed, and she burst into 
stifled sobs. 

The old gentleman shot his lips in and out in 
mingled consternation and sympathy. 

“ There ! There 1 There I ” he exclaimed. 
“Don’t cry! For goodness’ sake, don’t cry! 
Tell me, whatever’s the matter? ” 

It was, of course, a most unorthodox thing for 
Ingred to blurt out family affairs, and Father and 
Mother would have been justly indignant had 
they known, but she was impulsive, and without 


2o6 a Popular Schoolgirl 

much worldly wisdom, and Mr. Hardcastle 
seemed sympathetic, so on the spur of the moment 
she told him the urgency of Athelstane’s need, and 
how she was trying to meet it. He sat quite 
quiet for a short time, staring into the fire, then 
he said, very gently and kindly: 

“ My dear little girl, you needn’t part with your 
dog. I believe I can lend your brother all the 
medical books he wants.” 

“You! But you’re not a doctor? ” exclaimed 
Ingred. 

“ No, but my boy was studying medicine at 
Birkshaw. He had just passed his intermediate 
M. B. when he was called up. I’ve got all his 
books. He won’t want them again now. He 
was flying over the German lines, and his machine 
crashed down. One comfort, he was killed in- 
stantly! He had always hoped he’d never be 
taken prisoner. I think he’d have liked his books 
to be put to some use. I’ll hunt them out, and 
send them across to your brother, and the micro- 
scope, and any other things I can find. He may 
just as well have them.” 

There was a huskiness in the old gentleman’s 
voice, but he coughed it away. 

“ I don’t know how to thank you ! ” stammered 
Ingred. 

“ I don’t want any thanks. It’s only a neigh- 
borly act. Take your dog home, and say noth- 


Brotherly Breezes 207 

ing about all this. I’ll write to your brother. I 
wonder I never thought about it before ! ” 

Mr. Hardcastle was as good as his word, for 
next Monday evening quite a large consignment 
arrived for Athelstane, with a note offering the 
loan of books and microscope if they would be of 
any service in his medical studies. 

“ Why, they’re absolutely the very things I 
wanted ! ” exclaimed that youth rapturously. 
“What a trump he is! A real good sort! I 
say, you know, it’s really most awfully kind of 
him ! I wonder what the Dickens put it into his 
head?” 

But on that point none of the family could en- 
lighten him, for only Ingred and Derry knew the 
secret, and Ingred was at school, while Derry, be- 
longing to the dumb creation^ expressed his opin- 
ions solely in barks. 

When the household was re-united for next 
week-end, the clouds had cleared from Athel- 
stane’s horizon, but seemed to have settled more 
darkly than ever round Egbert. There was a 
horrible feeling of impending storm in the home 
atmosphere. It lent a constraint to conversation 
at meals, and put an effectual stopper on the fun 
which generally circulated round the fireside. It 
was all the more uncomfortable because nobody 
voiced the cause. 

“ Father looks unutterables, Mother’s plainly 


2o8 a Popular Schoolgirl 

worried to death, Egbert is sulks personified, 
Queenie won’t tell, Athelstane and Hereward 
either don’t know or don’t care what’s the matter, 
but it makes them cross. What is one to do with 
such a family ? ” thought Ingred on Sunday after- 
noon. 

It had been wet, and, though a detachment of 
them had ventured to church in waterproofs, they 
had not been able to take their usual safety valve 
of a walk across the moors. Seven people in a 
small house seem to get in one another’s way on 
Sunday afternoons. Father was dozing in the 
dining-room, Mother, Athelstane and Hereward 
were in the drawing-room, interrupting each 
other’s reading by constant extracts from their 
own books; Ingred, who hated to pause in the 
midst of The Scarlet Pimpernel to hear choice bits 
from The Young Visiters or Parisian Sketches, 
sought sanctuary in her bedroom, only to find the 
blind drawn and Quenrede with a bad headache, 
trying to rest. There seemed no comfortable 
corner available, so she slipped on her thick coat, 
put her book in the pocket, and walked down the 
garden to sit in the cycle-shed. Even in the rain 
it was nice out of doors; clumps of purple and yel- 
low crocuses showed under the gooseberry bushes; 
lilies were pushing up green heads through the 
soil; the flowering currant was bursting into bud; 
roots of polyanthus flaunted mauve and orange 


209 


Brotherly Breezes 

blossoms; under a sheltered wall were even a few 
early violets, whose sweet fresh scent seemed as 
the first breath of spring. A missel-thrush on the 
bare pear tree sang triumphantly through the rain, 
and a song-thrush, with more melodious notes, 
trilled forth an occasional call; the robin, which 
had haunted the garden all the winter, was scrap- 
ing energetically for grubs among the ivy on the 
wall, and scarcely troubled to fly away at her ap- 
proach. 

Ingred drew great breaths of sweet-scented wet 
air, and, with almost the same instinct as the 
thrush, broke into “ Thank God for a Garden ! ” 
the song that Mother loved to hear Quenrede 
sing in the evenings when the day’s work was over. 

Delightful and refreshing and soothing as Na- 
ture may be, however, it is rather a wet business 
to stand admiring crocuses in the streaming rain, 
so Ingred made a dash through the dripping 
bushes to the cycle-shed. If she had calculated 
upon finding solitude here she was disappointed. 
It was occupied already. Egbert, looking as 
gloomy as Hamlet, was tinkering with the motor- 
bicycle. He greeted his sister with something be- 
tween a sigh and a grunt, whistled monotonously 
for a moment or two, then burst into confidence. 

“Look here, Ingred; I can’t stand this any 
longer. I wish I were back in the army I I’ve a jolly 
good mind to chuck everything up, and re-enlist ! ’’ 

“ Is it as bad as all that? ’’ asked Ingred. 


210 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Yes, I’m about fed up with life. If it weren’t 
for the little Mater I’d have cleared out before 
this. Perhaps she’ll miss me, but I don’t know 
that anybody else will, and I don’t care ! ” 

“How about Miss Bertrand?” asked Ingred, 
obeying a sudden impulse of mischief. 

Egbert flung down a spanner, and turned to her 
the most astonished face in the world. 

“ What do you know about Miss Bertrand? ” 
he queried. 

Ingred chuckled delightedly. To use her own 
schoolgirl expression, she felt she “ had him on 
toast.” 

“ More than you imagine ! Who went into the 
Abbey Church, I should like to know, and sat in 
a pew for ever so long, and looked tender noth- 
ings? Oh yes! 7 saw you, and a pretty sight 
it was, too I ” she teased. 

Egbert was gazing at her as if he could scarcely 
believe his senses. 

“ But — but — where were you ? ” he stuttered. 

“ In the peep-hole ! ” exploded Ingred. “ I 
could see right down into the church, and I 
watched you come in ! I’ve been saving this up ! ” 

Egbert drew a long breath. 

“ If I’d only known before 1 ” he said slowly. 
“Ingred, stop laughing! You don’t understand. 
Look here, will you go and tell Dad that you saw 
me there, and the exact day and time when it hap- 
pened. You can remember that?” 


2II 


Brotherly Breezes 

“ Why, surely Father’s the very last person you 
want to know? ” said Ingred, sobering down. 

“ No, he isn’t, he’s the one it’s most important 
should hear about it from a reliable witness whom 
he can believe. I don’t mind telling you about it 
now” (as Ingred expressed her astonishment in 
her face), “ I’d got myself into a jolly old mess, 
and you’ll be able to clear me! It was this way; 
I slipped out from the office one afternoon for an 
hour, and went into the Abbey as you saw. Well, 
when I got back, somebody had been into Dad’s 
room during his absence, and a small sum of 
money was missing. He taxed me with taking it I ” 

“ You! But why you? ” exclaimed Ingred in- 
dignantly. 

“ Because I was the only person who had access 
to his private room. I told Dad I had been out 
— which made him angrier still — but none of 
the clerks had happened to see me go or come 
back, and I had no other witness to prove my 
words. As a matter of fact, I went out before 
Father, and came back after he had returned, but 
he wouldn’t take my word for it. You know what 
he is when he’s angry. You simply can’t argue 
with him! Then you made things ever so much 
worse by blurting out how I’d taken you to tea at 
the cafe, and bought you a bag. Father glared 
as if it proved I’d been spending stolen money! ” 

“ You were rather flush of cash that day,” 
commented Ingred. 


212 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Yes, the fact is I’d been writing a short story, 
and it had been accepted by a newspaper. It’s a 
poor enough thing, and I didn’t sign my own name 
to it. I didn’t want to tell them at home I was 
trying to write until I could do something bet- 
ter. Anyhow, I’d just cashed the check, and 
thought I’d give you a treat for once. I knew it 
was no use to explain to Father. Mother has 
stuck up for me, but I can tell you I’ve been hav- 
ing a time of it this last fortnight.” 

“ But, Egbert,” said Ingred, frankly puzzled, 
” couldn’t you have got Miss Bertrand to tell Dad 
where you were ? It would have been better af- 
ter all than letting him think you took the money.” 

Egbert’s face darkened again tragically. 

“ I wouldn’t appeal to Miss Bertrand to clear 
my character if it were a charge of murder. I’d 
be hanged first ! I met her the very day after we 
were in the Abbey together — she was walking 
with some idiot of an airman — and she stared 
straight in my face and cut me. I’ve done with 
girls ! They’re all of them alike ! ” and the 
gloomy young misanthrope picked up the spanner 
and began energetically tightening nuts on the 
motor-cycle. 

Ingred shook a sympathetic head. She had not 
much experience in love affairs, but she fancied 
that this one did not go very deep. 

“ You’ll get over it,” she consoled. “ And she 
wasn’t a very nice girl, anyway. Qucenie always 


213 


Brotherly Breezes 

loathed her. If Dad’s had his nap, I’ll go and 
tell him how I saw you in the Abbey. I know 
it was a Tuesday, because I’d had my music les- 
son, and was taking the books that Dr. Linton left 
behind him.” 

“Good! That’s what’s called proving an 
alibi. I don’t know who walked off with those 
notes, but as long as Dad’s satisfied I had nothing 
to do with it, that’s all I care. He can thrash it 
out with the clerks now, or leave it alone.” 

Mr. Saxon questioned Ingred closely, but ac- 
cepted her account of the matter, which set his 
doubts at rest concerning his son. The relief in 
the family circle was enormous. Mother’s face 
was beaming, and it seemed as if the storm-clouds 
had blown away, and the sun had shone out. Tea 
was the most comfortable meal that the household 
had taken together for a fortnight. 

“ I haven’t spent quite all that check I got 
from the Harlow Weekly News" whispered Eg- 
bert to Ingred that evening, “ and I’m going to 
buy you a box of chocolates on Monday. I’ll 
leave them for you at the Hostel. You deserve 
them 1 ” 

“You mascot! I can’t quite see that I do 
deserve them, for I really meant to rag you about 
that Abbey business. But I won’t say ‘ No, thank 
you!’ to chocks! Rather not! We’ll have a 
gorgeous little private feast in No. 2 to-morrow 
night.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


An Easter Pilgrimage 

The thirteen weeks between Christmas and 
Easter dragged much more slowly than those of 
the autumn term. The weather was cold and 
variable. As fast as Spring stirred in the earth, 
Winter seemed to stretch forth chilly fingers to 
check her advent. Nature, like a careful mother, 
kept the buds tightly folded on the trees and the 
yellow daffodil blossoms securely hidden under 
their green casement curtains* Only the most 
foolhardy birds ventured to begin building opera- 
tions. The rooks in the elm trees near the Abbey 
had begun to repair their nests during a mild spurt 
in January, then put off further alterations till late 
in March. Morning after morning the girls 
would wake to find the roofs covered with hoar 
frost. Ingred, who hated the cold, shivered as 
she crossed the windy quadrangle from the college 
to the hostel, and congratulated herself that she 
lived in the days of modern comforts. 

“ How the old monks and nuns managed to 
exist in those wretched chilly damp cloisters I 


214 


An Easter Pilgrimage 215 

can’t imagine,” she said, as she squatted by the 
stove warming her hands. “ Were they allowed 
to take hot bricks to bed with them in their cells? 
Think of turning out for midnight services into an 
unwarmed church! It sounds absolutely miser- 
able!” 

“ Perhaps they made themselves more comfort- 
able than we think,” commented Verity. “ One 
of them probably kept up the fire and doled out 
hot drinks after the services. It might even have 
been possible to take a hot-water bottle to church 
under the folds of those ample habits.” 

“ I don’t believe that would have been allowed. 
Surely the cold was part of the discipline.” 

“ I shouldn’t have been a nun if I’d lived in the 
Middle Ages,” said Fil. “ I’d have wanted to go 
to the tournaments and to have seen my knight 
fighting with my ribbons in his helmet and bring- 
ing me the crown. Oh, wouldn’t it have been 
fun? Life’s not a scrap romantic nowadays. I 
do think men are slackers. Why don’t they wear 
their ladies’ colors at football, and let whoever 
gets a goal carry a wreath of flowers to the pavil- 
ion and crown his girl ‘ Queen of Beauty ’ ? 
There’d be some excitement in looking on then. 
As it is it’s nothing but a scrimmage ; and I never 
care a button which side wins. You needn’t 
laugh. Why shouldn’t a footballer look gallant 
and present fturophies? The world would jog on 


2i6 a Popular Schoolgirl 

a great deal better if there were more chivalry in 
it.” 

“ The girls want to play games themselves now- 
adays instead of looking on and receiving tro- 
phies,” giggled Verity. 

“ I don’t ! ” declared Fil emphatically. “ I 
hate tearing about at hockey, or running at cricket. 
I’d far rather let my knight do the work for me.” 

“ Chilly work looking on in this weather. The 
games keep one warm,” said Ingred, who was still 
only half thawed. 

In spite of boisterous March winds and late 
spring frosts the sun climbed steadily higher in 
the sky and the days lengthened. Ingred, who 
used to arrive home in the twilight at Wynchcote 
on Friday afternoons, could now dig in the garden 
after tea. She liked the scent of newly-turned 
earth, and was happy working away with a trowel 
transplanting roots of wallflowers and forget-me- 
nots to make a display in the bed near the dining- 
room window. At school the various forms 
vied with one another in shows of hyacinths grown 
in bowls, the best of which were lent to the studio 
on drawing days and figured as models for water- 
color sketches, together with daffodils and- hazel 
catkins. Lispeth, who did not relax the activities 
of The Rainbow League, revived her idea of a 
Posy Union, persuaded some of the girls to bring 
little pots of gay crocuses or blue squills to school. 


An Easter Pilgrimage 217 

and after these had been duly exhibited on a table 
in the lecture-hall, sent them through the agency 
of a “ Children’s Welfare Worker ” to brighten 
the bedsides of various small invalids in the 
poorer quarters of the town and let them know 
that spring had arrived. 

Easter-tide was very near now, and the school 
would break up for three weeks. Miss Burd was 
going away to allow her tired brains to lie fallow 
for a while, and most of the other teachers were 
looking forward to a well-earned rest apart from 
their forms. It came as a surprise to everybody 
when Miss Strong — alone — among the staff — 
suggested the project of taking some of her pupils 
for a short walking tour. They were to start off, 
like pilgrims of old, carrying with them the barest 
necessaries, and have a four days’ tramp to visit 
a few of the beauty spots of the neighborhood, 
spending a couple of nights en route. 

“ It will be a real open-air holiday,” she as- 
sured them. “ We shall be out of doors all day 
long and eat most of our meals by the roadside. 
I’ve planned it out carefully. A short railway 
journey to Carford, then walk by easy stages 
through Ryton-on-the-Heath to Dropwick and 
Pursborough, where we can get the train again 
back to Grovebury. I know of two extremely 
nice Temperance Hotels where we can be put up 
for the night. By going in this way we shall see 


2i8 A Popular Schoolgirl 

the cream of the country. Any girl who is a good 
walker may join the party.” 

It certainly sounded a fascinating program, and 
after due consideration at home eight girls put 
their names down for the excursion — Ingred, 
Verity, Nora, Bess, Linda, Francie, Kitty, and 
Belle. They felt it would be quite a new experi- 
ence to know Miss Strong out of school hours; 
the light in her eyes when she announced the 
scheme gave promise of hitherto hidden capacities 
for fun. It circulated round the form that she 
might prove quite a jolly companion. Those 
girls who could not join the tour were a trifle wist- 
ful and inclined towards envy. They took it out 
of the pilgrims in gloomy prognostications con- 
cerning the weather. 

“ It will probably rain all the time and you’ll 
tramp along like a row of drowned rats,” sug- 
gested Beatrice. 

“ It won’t do anything of the sort. I believe 
we’re going to have a fine mild spell and it will be 
just glorious. I’m taking my ‘ Brownie,’ so 
there’ll be some snapshots to show we’ve been en- 
joying ourselves,” retorted Nora briskly. ” You 
stay-at-homes will be sorry for yourselves when 
you hear our adventures ! ” 

To allow the weather ample chance of improve- 
ment, and perhaps also to give Miss Strong time 
to rest, the excursion was fixed for the last week of 


219 


An Easter Pilgrimage 

the holidays. One morning in mid-April, there- 
fore, found teacher and pupils meeting together 
on the platform of Grovebury station to catch the 
9.25 train to Carford. They wore jerseys and 
their school hats, and they carried their luggage 
according to their individual ideas of convenience. 
Linda wore her little brother’s satchel slung over 
her back. Nora had borrowed a knapsack, Kitty 
preferred a parcel, Verity packed her possessions 
in a string bag, and Bess carried a neat dispatch- 
case. 

“ I’d a ripping idea for mine, but it wouldn’t 
work,” declared Ingred. “ I meant to tie my par- 
cel to a balloon and then just lead it along by a 
string. But I couldn’t get a proper gas balloon 
for the business, and that’s what you ought to 
have.” 

“And suppose the wind were to blow it away 
from you, what then? ” inquired Miss Strong. 

“ I suppose I should have to cable it round my 
waist.” 

“ Then you might be whisked up with it, and we 
should see you sailing off into the clouds in a kind 
of aeroplane holiday instead of a walking tour! 
I don’t think we can patent your balloon dodge 
yet.” 

“ What I want,” said Kitty, “ is a sort of child’s 
light mail-cart arrangement that I could wheel 
along. It’s what Mother always says she needs 


220 


A Popular Schoolgirl 

for shopping — a parcel-holder on wheels. Why 
doesn’t somebody invent one? He — or she 
(I’m sure it would be a she-) — would make a 
fortune.” 

“ We might have borrowed a perambulator,” 
said Belle, quite seriously, “ and have packed all 
our luggage into it.” 

“Oh, I dare say! And who would have 
wheeled it? ” 

“ We could have taken it in turns.” 

“ With long turns for the willing horses, and 
short turns for shirkers! No, thanks! Better 
each to stick to our own.” 

“ Besides which, forget stiles. We hope 
to try some field paths as well as high roads,” 
added Miss Strong. “ Also I should decidedly 
have jibbed at escorting a perambulator. Here 
comes the train! Let us make a dash for an 
empty carriage and keep it to ourselves.” 

It was only a short journey to Carford, but it 
took them over twelve rather uninteresting miles 
and put them down just at the commencement of 
a very beautiful stretch o^ country where open up- 
lands alternated with wooded coombes, and where 
the stone-roofed villages were the prettiest in the 
county. 

Miss Strong, who had had some experience of 
mountaineering in Switzerland, restrained the 


221 


An Easter Pilgrimage 

pace and kept them all at what she called a 
“ guide’s walk.” 

“ It pays in the long run,” she assured them. 
“ If you tear ahead at first, you get tired later 
on, and we must keep fairly well together. I 
can’t have some of you half a mile behind.” 

The April days were still cold, but very brac- 
ing for exercise. Lambs were out in the fields, 
primroses grew in clumps under the hedgerows, 
hazel catkins flung showers of pollen to the winds, 
and in the coppice that bordered the road pale- 
mauve March violets and white anemone stars 
showed through last year’s carpet of dead leaves. 
There was that joyful thrill of spring in the air, 
that resurrection of Nature when the thraldom 
of winter is over, and beauty comes back to the 
gray dim world. The old Greeks felt it, thou- 
sands of years ago, and fabled it in their myth of 
Persephone and her return from Hades. The 
Druids knew it in Ancient Britain, and fixed their 
religious ceremonies for May Day. The birds 
were caroling it still in the hedgerows, and the 
girls caught the joyous infection and danced along 
in defiance of Miss Strong’s jog-trot guide walk. 
Even the mistress herself, so wise at the outset, 
finally flung prudence to the winds, and skirmished 
through the coppices with enthusiasm equal to 
that of her pupils, lured from the pathway by the 


222 A Popular Schoolgirl 

glimpses of kingcups, or the pursuit of a peacock 
butterfly. 

“ All the same, if we tear round like small dogs, 
we shall never reach Dropwick to-night, and I’ve 
booked our rooms there,” she assured them. 
“You don’t want to sleep on the heather, I sup- 
pose ! ” 

“ Bow-wow ! Shouldn’t mind ! ” laughed 
Kitty. “We could cling together and keep each 
other warm.” 

“You won’t cling to me, thanks! I prefer a 
bed of my own.” 

Nora, having brought a good supply of films 
for her Brownie camera, was most keen on taking 
snapshots. She photographed the company eat- 
ing their lunch on a bank by the roadside, with 
Miss Strong in the very act of biting a piece of 
bread and butter, and Ingred with her face buried 
in a mug. She even went further. She had been 
reading a book on faked photography, and she 
yearned to try experiments. 

“I’m going to give those stay-at-homes a few 
thrills,” she declared. “ I told them we’d have 
adventures.” 

Nora expounded her plan to Miss Strong, who 
was sufficiently interested in the subject to promise 
her collusion and good advice. A mock Alpine 
scene came first. Nora had brought with her, for 
this express purpose, a length of rope, which she 


223 


An Easter Pilgrimage 

wore around her jersey like a Carmelite’s girdle. 
She took it off now and fastened it round the 
waists of three of her schoolfellows, linking them 
together in the manner of Swiss mountaineers. 
Then she found a piece of rock on which were 
narrow ledges, and, with the help of Miss Strong, 
posed them in attitudes of apparent peril. 
Really, they were only a couple of feet from the 
ground, and a fall would have been a laughing 
matter, but in a camera they appeared to be cling- 
ing almost by their eyelashes to the face of an 
inaccessible crag and in imminent danger of their 
lives. Nora took two views, and chuckled with 
satisfaction. 

“ That’ll make their hair stand on end ! I’ll 
fix a few more sensations if I can. Who’s game 
to run six inches in front of a mild old cow’s horns, 
while somebody urges her on from behind? ” 

“How will you guarantee she’s mild?” in- 
quired Bess dubiously. “ She might take it into 
her head to toss us 1 ” 

“ Not she ! It was only the ‘ cow with the 
crumpled horn ’ that went in for tossing.” 

“Well, I’d rather be in a safer photo, thanks! 
I’m terrified of cows, anyway.” 

Nora’s instincts were really quite dramatic. 
She photographed Bess crouching in the hollow of 
a tree, an imaginary fugitive, to whom Francie, 
in an attitude of caution, handed surreptitious 


224 A Popular Schoolgirl 

victuals. She posed Linda, apparently lifeless, on 
the borders of a pond, with Kitty and Verity ap- 
plying artificial respiration. She bound up In- 
gred’s head with a handkerchief, and placed her 
arm in a sling as the result of a fictitious accident, 
and would have arranged a circle of weeping girls 
round the prostrate body of Miss Strong, had not 
that stalwart lady stoutly objected. 

“ I’m not going to do anything of the sort, so 
put up that camera, and come along at once. 
We’ve wasted far too much time already, and we 
shall have to step out unless we want to finish our 
walk in the dark. I promise you tea at Ryton- 
on-the-Heath, if you hurry, but we can’t stop half 
an hour there unless you put your best foot fore- 
most, so, quick march ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


The Rivals 

This book does not propose to extol an ideal 
heroine, only to chronicle the deeds and thoughts 
of a girl, who, like most other girls, had her pleas- 
ant and her disagreeable moods, her high aspira- 
tions and good intentions, and her occasional 
bursts of bad temper. Ingred had been very 
passionate as a child, and, though she had learnt 
to put on the curb, sometimes that uncomfortable 
lower self would take the bit between its teeth 
and gallop away with her. It is sad to have to 
confess that the enjoyment of her walking tour 
was entirely spoilt by an ugly little imp who kept 
her company. In plain words she was horribly 
jealous of Bess. Ingred liked to be popular. 
She was gratified to be warden of “ The Pio- 
neers ” and a member of the School Parliament. 
She felt she had an acknowledged standing not 
only in her own form but throughout the college. 
Her official position, her cleverness in class, her 
aptitude for music, her skill at games, made her 
an all-round force and a referee on most subjects. 
There is no doubt that Ingred would have had the 
225 


226 A Popular Schoolgirl 

undivided post of favorite in her form had it not 
been for Bess Haselford. Not that Bess was in 
any way a self-constituted rival — on the contrary 
she was rather shy and retiring, and made no par- 
ticular bid for popularity. Perhaps that was one 
reason why the girls liked her. She was generous 
in lending her property, invited her form-mates 
to charming parties at Rotherwood, and often 
persuaded an indulgent father to include some of 
her special chums in motoring expeditions on Sat- 
urday afternoons. She had, indeed, taken up the 
exact role that Quenrede had played years ago, 
before the war, and which Ingred would have fol- 
lowed had Rotherwood and a car still been in the 
Saxons’ possession. In spite of several overtures 
from Bess, Ingred had thrust away all idea of 
friendship, and had steadily refused any invita- 
tions to her old home. The reports which the 
girls brought back of the renewed glories of Roth- 
erwood made her feel like a disinherited princess. 
She considered it rough luck that her supplanter 
should be at the same school and in the same form 
as herself, and decided that Bess had ousted her 
from both house and favor. It made it only the 
more aggravating that Bess’s musical talent was 
quite equal, if not superior, to her own. Bess had 
improved immensely on the violin, and her per- 
formance at the end-of-term recital had received 
quite a little ovation. 


The Rivals 


227 


When the question of the walking tour was 
broached, Bess, owing to home engagements, had 
at first reluctantly refused, then had managed to 
rearrange her holidays and had joined the party 
after all. To Ingred her presence utterly marred 
the enjoyment. It was extremely unreasonable 
of Ingred, for Bess was most unassuming and 
really very long-suffering. She put up with snubs 
that would have made most girls retaliate indig- 
nantly. Nobody likes to be sat upon too hard, 
however, and even the proverbial worm will turn 
at last. 

As the walking party, much urged by Miss 
Strong straggled along towards Ryton-on-the- 
Heath, Bess made a lightning dive up a bank and 
came back with a blue flower plainly of the labiate 
species. 

“ Bugle ! ” she remarked with satisfaction. 

“ Bugle? ” echoed Ingred scornfully. “ Shows 
how much you know about botany! That’s self- 
heal! ” 

“ Oh no ; it’s certainly bugle.” 

“ I tell you it’s self-heal. I found some at Lyn- 
stones last August and looked it up in the flower- 
book.” 

“ Very likely you did, but that doesn’t prove 
that this is self-heal.” 

“ It does, for anybody with a pair of eyes. 
I’ve been studying botany.” 


228 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ And so have I ! ” 

“ You may think you know everything, Bess 
Haselford, but you don’t know this.” 

“ I didn’t say I knew everything; but I’m cer- 
tain this is bugle all the same, and I stick to it! ” 

Bess’s usually sweet voice had an obstinate note 
in it for once. She seemed determined to defend 
her botanical trenches. 

“ Go it — hammer and tongs ! ” laughed Kitty. 
“ I’ll back the winner I ” 

“ And I’ll take the case into court,” said Linda, 
snatching the flower from her schoolfellow’s hand 
and running on to show it to Miss Strong, who 
was an authority on the subject. 

The mistress paused to let the others overtake 
her. 

“ Bugle, certainly,” she decided emphatically. 
“ The first bit we’ve found this year. It’s out 
early. Self-heal? Oh dear no! The two are 
rather alike and are sometimes mistaken one for 
another, but no botanist would dream of confusing 
them. Bugle is a spring and early summer flower, 
and self-heal blooms much later. Make a note 
in your nature diaries that you found bugle on 
15th April.” 

Considerably squashed, Ingred had for once to 
acknowledge her botany to be at fault, and, though 
Bess did not triumph, Francie gave Kitty a poke 
and the pair giggled. 



D 46 

“YOU MAY THINK YOU KNOW EVERYTHING, BESS HASELFORD, 
BUT YOU don’t KNOW THIS ! ” 




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The Rivals 229 

“ Well, of course, one can’t be always right,” 
said Ingred airily. 

“So it seems; though some people set them- 
selves up for wiseacres ! ” sniggered Kitty. 

Ingred fell behind with Verity and let the 
others walk on. It was only a trifling incident, 
but she was annoyed to notice how openly and in- 
stantly the girls had sided with Bess. She felt 
too glum for speech, and as Verity was tired and 
disinclined to talk, they tramped along in silence. 

They had been winding steadily uphill for some 
miles and were now on the heath from which Ry- 
ton took its name. The ground fell steeply to 
the west, showing glimpses of a great river in the 
valley below, where the still-leafless woods had 
burst here and there into faint tokens of spring. 
Beyond the river rose the characteristic grey hills 
of the neighborhood, with their stone walls and 
sheepfolds and stretches of moorland, looking a 
little hazy in the afternoon light, but with patches 
of yellow gorse catching the sunshine. Ryton 
was a delightful little village. Its cottages, built 
long ago by local craftsmen, seemed absolutely 
in harmony with the landscape: walls, dormers, 
and mullions and long undulating roofs were all 
of limestone and conveyed an impression of sturdy 
self-respect. The rain-worn, lichen-covered roofs 
had weathered to charming irregularities of form 
and lovely tones of color. Ivy and clematis 


230 A Popular Schoolgirl 

climbed over the porches and twisted themselves 
round the low chimneys. The little gardens were 
bright with daffodils, mezereon, and flowering 
currant. 

To the girls, somewhat tired and decidedly 
hungry, the main focus of the village was a long 
iron post which stretched out over the street and 
supported a rudely-painted sign of a bird, whose 
species might have been a puzzle to an ornitholo- 
gist but for the words “ Pelican Inn ” that ap- 
peared beneath it. 

In the long-ago days before railroads, the little 
hostelry had been a stopping-place for stage- 
coaches, and a wooden board still set forth that it 
supplied “ Posting in all its branches.” The land- 
lord would no doubt have been much dismayed if 
any wag had entered and demanded a chaise and 
post-horses to drive to Gretna Green, and a 
shabby motor in his stable-yard showed that he 
marched with the times. 

Miss Strong, on consulting her watch, decided 
that her party might safely indulge in a halt of 
half an hour, and ordered tea for nine persons. 
The inn, built on a type common in the district, 
was entered by an archway leading straight into 
a courtyard. A door on the right led to the bar, 
and a door on the left to the coffee-room. To 
this latter more aristocratic quarter Miss Strong 
conducted her pupils. Some of them had never 
before been in a small village hostelry, and were 


The Rivals 


231 


much amused at the quaint old parlor with its 
sporting prints, its glass cases of stuffed squirrels 
and badgers, and its horsehair-seated chairs with 
crochet antimacassars hung over the backs. The 
atmosphere was certainly rather redolent of stale 
beer and tobacco, but a bunch of crimson wall- 
flowers on the table did their best to spread a 
pleasant perfume. The tea, when, after much 
delay, it arrived, was delicious. The Pelican was 
a farm as well as an inn, and the rosy-faced serv- 
ant girl carried in cream, fresh butter, and red- 
currant jam to the coffee-room. She apologized 
for the absence of cake, but it was an omission 
that nobody minded. Upland air gives good ap- 
petites, and, though Miss Strong reminded her 
flock that this was only a meal by the way, and 
that supper was ordered for them at Dropwick, 
they set to work as if they would taste nothing 
more till midnight. There was something so 
delightfully fresh and out of the common in hav- 
ing tea at a wayside inn ; they felt true pilgrims of 
the road, and civilization and school seemed to 
have faded into a far background. The love of 
travel is in the blood of both Celt and Anglo- 
Saxon; our forefathers visited shrines for the joy 
of the journey as well as for religious motives, and 
maybe our Bronze Age ancestors, who flocked to 
the great Sun Festivals at Stonehenge or Avebury 
Circles, derived pleasure from the change of scene 


232 A Popular Schoolgirl 

as well as a blessing from the Druids. The 
Romans, those great pioneers of travel, had 
opened out the district eighteen centuries ago, and 
laid a straight, paved road from Wendcester to 
Pursborough; the remains of their fortified camps 
and of their villas were still left to mark their era. 
The foss-way, leading from Ryton-on-the-Heath 
to Dropwick, was their handiwork, and our pil- 
grims were to march on the identical track of some 
old Roman legion. 

It must be owned that when tea was finished 
they were very unwilling pilgrims, and would 
gladly have spent the night at The Pelican and 
have slept in the funny, musty, low-ceiled little 
bedrooms upstairs. 

“Couldn’t we possibly stop here?” implored 
Verity. 

But Miss Strong, having booked rooms in Drop- 
wick, was adamant. 

“ Besides which I wouldn’t trust the beds here,” 
she remarked. “ So early in the year they’re al- 
most bound to be damp, and we don’t want any 
of you laid up with rheumatic fever as the result 
of our trip. I prefer to give a wayside inn a 
week’s notice if I mean to sleep there in April. 
Nobody has had enough coal during the winter 
to keep fires going in spare bedrooms. That 
front room was as chilly as a country church ! 
You won’t feel so tired. Verity, when you’re on 


The Rivals 233 

your feet again, and it’s all downhill to Drop- 
wick.” 

The Temperance Hotel, where the girls finally 
stayed their weary feet, was quite modern and 
unromantic, though well aired and fairly comfort- 
able. Ingred, whom the fates had placed to sleep 
with Nora, had a trying night, for her obstreper- 
ous bedfellow had a habit of flinging out her arms, 
and of appropriating the larger half of the 
clothes, leaving poor Ingred to wake shivering. 
Also, the bed sloped towards the middle, so that 
both girls had to poise themselves on a kind of 
hillside, and were constantly rolling down and 
colliding. These troubles, however, were only 
incidental in the Pilgrimage, and certainly might 
have been worse. 

On comparing notes at breakfast nearly every- 
body had had similar experiences. Miss Strong 
confessed to a patent mattress with a broken 
spring jutting up in the center, round which she 
had been obliged to lie in a curve. Linda and 
Francie had slept near the water-cistern, which 
alarmed them with weird noises, and Bess and 
Kitty, trying to open their window wider, had 
found it lacked sash-cords, and descended like a 
guillotine, sending the prop that had upheld it, 
flying into the street. Though they groused at 
the time, the girls laughed as they discussed these 
details over the eggs and bacon. The sun was 


234 A" Popular Schoolgirl 

shining and they felt rested, and quite ready once 
more to shoulder their kit and set out on the 
march. 

There was nothing of very great interest to see 
in Dropwick itself, though it was a quaint enough 
old-fashioned market-town, with a fifteenth-cen- 
tury church tower, and a few black and white 
houses. Miss Strong decided not to waste any 
time there, but to push on as fast as possible 
across the hills to Sudbury, where there was a 
fine Romano-British villa that was well worth a 
visit. So the foss-way took them up, and up, and 
up, through fir-woods where the new cones were 
showing like candles on Christmas trees, and 
alongside a quarry where they pounced upon some 
quite interesting fossils in the heaps of stones by 
the road, and over a craggy weather-worn peak, 
where, again, they caught the magnificent view of 
the valley and the river and hills beyond. Then 
down again, through more fir-woods, where the 
timber was being felled, and great tree-trunks lay 
piled in rows one above another, and past banks 
that were a dream, with starry blackthorn blos- 
som and primroses growing beneath, to where the 
cross-roads met and the signpost pointed an arm 
to Sudbury. 

The Romans might take their roads straight as 
an arrow across moor and hill, but they chose out 
the beauty spots of the land on which to build 


The Rivals 


235 


their villas, and were careful to fix upon a south- 
ern aspect and shelter from the prevailing winds. 
The remains of the old settlement lay behind a 
farm, and had been carefully excavated by a local 
antiquarian society. Visitors applied at the farm- 
house, entered their names in a book, paid their 
admission money, and were escorted round by a 
guide. 

Time, and successive conquests, had demolished 
the greater part of the villa, but its foundations 
and some of the old brick walls could be plainly 
traced. The great bath, that indispensable fea- 
ture of a Roman establishment, could still be seen, 
with Its beautiful tesselated pavement. Inlaid with 
mosaics of doves, cupIds, and designs of fruit and 
flowers. The heating system also, with the 
leaden pipes and remains of furnaces, was a testi- 
mony to the civilization of the period, and the 
amount of comfort that the legions brought with 
them into their foreign exile. A large shed had 
been fitted up as a museum, and held a number of 
objects that had been dug up during the excava- 
tions. The girls, poring over the glass cases, 
looked with interest at a Roman lady’s silver 
hand-mirror, toilet pots, and tiny shears that must 
have been the early substitute for scissors. More 
fascinating still were the toys from a little child’s 
grave, small glass bottles, roughly-made animals 
of clay, and a carved object that no doubt had 


236 A Popular Schoolgirl 

been at one time a treasured doll, though now it 
was crumbling into dust. 

Among the pile of broken statues or fragments 
of ornamental stonework in the corner was a 
monumental tablet, cracked across in two places, 
but pieced together for preservation with iron 
rivets. The inscription ran: 

“D.M. Simpliciae Florentinae Animas Inno- 
centissimas quae vixit menses decern. Felicius 
Simplex Pater fecit. Leg. vi, V.” 

(To the Divine Shades. To Simplicia Floren- 
tina, a most innocent soul, who lived ten months. 
Felicius Simplex of the Sixth Legion, the Victor- 
ious, the father, erected this.) 

Some of the girls glanced at the tablet, and the 
English translation of the inscription which lay 
near, and turned away without much notice. But 
Ingred stood gazing at them with a catch in her 
throat. They brought a whole pathetic human 
story to life again. She could picture the noble 
Roman father, leader of the victorious legion, 
sent over from Italy and making his home here 
in a conquered foreign land, as our officers do in 
India, and bringing with him his lady with her 
Roman customs and her slaves. Those few brief 
words — “ a most innocent soul who lived ten 
months ” — told the tragedy of the cherished lit- 


The Rivals 


237 


tie daughter whose frail life faded in the fogs of 
the British climate about eighteen hundred years 
ago. Hearts are the same all the world over, 
and the pretty dark-eyed Roman baby must have 
been laid to its rest with as much grief and sad- 
ness as the fair-haired darlings whom British 
mothers sometimes bury in Indian soil. 

“ It’s a sweet name, too — Simplicia Floren- 
tina ! ” mused Ingred. “ I wonder what she 
would have grown up like. And what her history 
would have been! I’d give worlds to know more 
about her I” 

“Aren’t you coming, Ingred?’’ called Verity 
from the doorway. “ Miss Strong says we ought 
to be getting on now.’’ 

Ingred brought her thoughts back with an effort 
to the twentieth century, and joined the waiting 
party outside. Miss Strong was talking to their 
guide, who was describing a short cut across the 
fields that would save them several miles on their 
way to Pursborough. 

Verity, after calling to her friend in the mu- 
seum, had run out. Ingred followed her, to 
find her with her arm locked closely through 
Bess’s. There was no reason why she should 
not display such a mark of affection, but to Ingred 
it seemed little short of an insult to herself. Ver- 
ity, her particular chum, to have openly gone over 
to the enemy! She stared at her in surprise. 


238 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Verity did not appear to notice the stare, however, 
and walked on quite calmly. 

Miss Strong had decided that they should find 
a quiet place along the lane where they could eat 
their lunch before beginning the second part of 
their march. She fixed on a lovely spot with a 
high wooded bank. at the back and in front fields 
that sloped to the river. There were specks of 
yellow in these fields, and Kitty who finished her 
sandwiches first, ran to inspect nearer and re- 
ported cowslips. Instantly most of the girls went 
scrambling over the stile. 

Miss Strong, who had bought picture-postcards 
of the Roman villa, and was addressing them with 
a stylo-pen, did not follow the exodus. She called 
to Ingred, however, who was last. 

“ Warn the girls,” she said, “not on any ac- 
count to go into that meadow where there is a 
horse with a young foal. The guide at the farm 
said it is a savage beast and will attack people. 
Be sure to tell them all ! ” 

” I’ll run after them now,” answered Ingred, 
calling “ Cuckoo ! ” to attract their attention. 

She told Belle and Linda and Verity, who were 
near to the style, and Linda passed the news on to 
Francie and Kitty. Bess was quite a long dis- 
tance down the field, gathering blackthorn from 
the hedge. 

“ I’m not going to tear all that way after her! ” 


The Rivals 


239 


thought Ingred crossly. “ Verity will be sure to 
tell her. They seem inseparable to-day. Besides 
which nobody’s particularly likely to go into that 
other meadow. There are plenty of cowslips 
here.” 

It took Miss Strong a much longer time to 
write her postcards than she had originally in- 
tended, and while she was thus employed her 
girls spread themselves out in quest of flowers. 
It is always amazing when you start rambling in 
company with others how quickly you can find 
yourself alone. By the time Ingred had gathered 
a fragrant, sweet-smelling bunch and looked round 
for somebody to admire it, her schoolmates were 
gone. She hunted about for them, and noticed 
Verity’s green jersey and Kitty’s brown tam-o’- 
shanter in the wood above. Surely they must all 
be up there together. 

She was just going to follow, when a qualm of 
conscience seized her. She had not delivered 
Miss Strong’s message to B'ess, and it would per- 
haps be as well to ascertain that the latter had not 
strayed unwarned into the danger zone. 

“ It’s not at all likely,” Ingred kept repeating 
to herself, as she walked briskly along the meadow 
to the fence. “ I’m really only going on a wild 
goose chase.” 

Likely or unlikely, it was the very thing which 
had happened. The cowslips on the other side 


240 A Popular Schoolgirl 

of the railings were larger and finer, and Bess, 
having no fear of horses, had climbed over and 
wandered some way down the field. Only about 
twenty yards from her the lanky foal was gam- 
bolling round its mother, a big draught mare, 
cropping the grass innocently enough at present, 
and apparently not perceiving trespassers. 

If Bess could retreat quietly and unnoticed from 
the field all might be well. Ingred did not dare to 
call for fear of attracting the mare’s attention. 
If Bess would only turn round she might wave to 
her. But Bess kept her back to the fence and 
had no idea of danger. There was only one 
course open to Ingred. She slipped over the rail- 
ings and went along the meadow to warn her 
schoolfellow. In a few quiet words she explained 
the situation. 

“ Don’t run,” she whispered. “ Let us walk 
back and perhaps it will take no notice of us.” 

The girls went as softly as possible, looking 
over their shoulders every now and then to see 
that all was safe. Of bulls they had a wholesome 
terror, but they had had no previous experience 
of a savage horse. 

They were about fifteen yards from the rail- 
ings, when the mare, which hitherto had been 
feeding quietly, raised her head and lumbered 
round. She saw strangers in her territory; her 
primeval instinct was to protect her foal, and she 
came tearing across the field with wild eyes and 


The Rivals 


241 


lip turned back from gleaming teeth. The girls 
fled for their lives. It was a question of which 
could reach the railings first, they or the danger- 
ous brute whose huge hoofs thundered behind 
them. Ingred, who was the taller and the 
stronger of the two, seized Bess by the hand and 
literally dragged her along. Together they 
tumbled over the fence somehow and rolled down 
the bank into the safe shelter of some gorse 
bushes. For a moment they were afraid the 
mare would leap after them, but the height of the 
rails balked her; apparently she was satisfied with 
routing the enemy and returned across the field 
to her foal. The girls, with shaking knees, got 
up and hurried towards the lane where they had 
left Miss Strong. 

“ You’ve saved my life, Ingred! ” gasped Bess, 
as they went along. 

“ No, I haven’t! ” choked Ingred. “ At least, 
it was my fault you ever went into the field at all. 
Miss Strong told me to tell you the horse was 
savage, and you were such a long way off picking 
cowslips that I didn’t trouble to go after you. I 
trusted to Verity telling you.” 

“ Verity ran the other way with Kitty.” 

“ I know. Well, at any rate, it was my fault 
and I’m ready to take the blame. Precious row 
I shall get into with the Snark! ” 

“ Why should we say anything about it ? ” 

“ Not say anything? ” 


242 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ There’s really no need. It’s over and done 
with now. I don’t want to get you into a scrape. 
I vote we just keep it to ourselves.” 

Ingred paused, with her hand on the gate, and 
gazed with unaffected astonishment at her com- 
panion. 

“ Bess Haselford, you’re the biggest trump I’ve 
ever met ! It’s only one girl in a thousand who’d 
want to cover up a thing like that. Most people 
would make such a tale of it, and pose as an in- 
jured martyr whom I’d nearly murdered. I’m 
sure Francie would, or even Verity.” 

“ You put yourself into danger to come and 
warn me ! ” 

“ Well, it was the least I could do ! ” 

“ Let’s forget about it then. And don’t tell 
any of the girls, in case they blab. It would make 
Miss Strong so nervous, she’d be scared about 
our going into any fields for ever afterwards.” 

“ Right-o, I won’t tell, but I shan’t forget. As 
I said before, I think you’re the biggest trump on 
the face of the earth.” 

“ Cuckoo ! ” rang out Linda’s voice from the 
bank. 

“ Where are you girls? ” shouted Miss Strong 
from the lane. 

“Coming!” called Ingred, as she latched the 
gate and hurried with Bess to rejoin the rest of 
the party. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Bess at Home 

The Pilgrims, after a glorious tramp down the 
dale of Beechcombe, reached Pursborough with- 
out further adventure, and spent the night there. 
They gave an hour next morning to inspecting the 
glorious old church and the ruins of the castle, 
then once more resumed the Roman road. It 
was the last day of their tour, so they made the 
best of it. They explored some delightful woods, 
followed the course of a fascinating stream, ate 
their lunch in a picturesque quarry, had an early 
tea at a wayside inn which rivalled ‘‘ The Pelican ” 
in quaintness, and finally reached Ribstang in time 
to catch the 5 :20 train to Grovebury. The con- 
clusion of the excursion meant the close of the 
holiday, for school would begin again on the fol- 
lowing Monday. Everybody had enjoyed it im- 
mensely, and everybody was only too sorry it was 
over. To Ingred it marked an epoch. She had 
suddenly made friends with Bess Haselford. 
Now she viewed Bess with unprejudiced eyes she 
realized what an exceedingly nice and attractive 
243 


244 A Popular Schoolgirl 

girl she really was. The adventure in the field 
had flung them together, and — much to the as- 
tonishment of the others, who did not know their 
secret — they had walked the whole way from 
Purshorough to Ribstang in each other’s company. 

“ I can’t make out Ingred! ” declared Verity. 
“ Here she’s been abusing Bess, and calling her a 
bounder, and now she’s hanging on her arm! 
The way some people turn round is really most 
extraordinary — — ” 

“ ‘ There’s naught so queer as folks ! ’ ” quoted 
Linda. “ Glad Ingred’s come to her senses, at 
any rate. I always thought she was perfectly 
beastly to Bess 1 ” 

“ So she was. I wonder Bess will put up with 
her now. I’m sure I wouldn’t I ” 

Bess, however, was of a forgiving disposition, 
and let bygones be bygones. It is the only plan 
at schools, for girls are generally so frank in the 
nature of their remarks that if you begin to treas- 
ure up the disagreeable things said to you, and 
let them rankle, you will probably find yourself 
without a chum in the world. Though the fash- 
ion may be for plain speaking, it is often a matter 
of mood, and the mate who genuinely believes 
you a “ blighter ” one day, will claim you as a 
“ mascot ” with equal persuasion on the next. It 
is all part of the wholesome rough-and-tumble of 
your education, and proves of as much use in train- 


Bess at Home 


245 


ing you ‘and rounding your projecting corners as 
the lessons you learn in your form. The girls 
thought Ingred’s new infatuation would soon wear 
off, but it had come to stay. She herself was 
quite surprised at the force of the attraction. It 
was almost like falling in love. She marched 
with Bess at drilling, chose her for her partner 
at tennis, and would have changed desks to sit 
next to her, had not Miss Strong refused permis- 
sion. As a natural result of this new state of af- 
fairs came a shy invitation from Bess asking In- 
gred to tea at Rotherwood. After the many 
previous refusals she would hardly have ventured 
to give in but for several hints which paved the 
way. Circumstances, however, alter cases, and 
Ingred, who had declared that nothing should in- 
duce her to set foot in her old home, was now all 
eagerness to go. She was delighted to find that 
she was to be the only guest. She felt that on 
this particular visit even Verity would be de trop. 

On a certain Tuesday afternoon, therefore, 
with full permission from Miss Burd, she ab- 
sented herself from the hostel tea-table, and 
walked home with Bess instead. It gave her 
quite a thrill to turn in at the familiar gate of 
Rotherwood. The lawns were in beautiful order, 
and the beds gay with tulips, aubrietias, forget- 
me-nots, and a lovely show of hyacinths. So far 
from being neglected, the place seemed even bet- 


246 A Popular Schoolgirl 

ter kept than in the old days. The house, with 
its pretty modern black-and-white front, its many 
gables, and its cheerful red-tiled roof, looked the 
same as formerly; but indoors there were great 
changes. The hall, which used to be Moorish, 
was now hung with tapestry, and furnished in old 
oak; the drawing-room was yellow instead of blue, 
with a big brocade-covered couch and a Chappell 
piano; the dining-room had rows of book-cases 
and some good oil-paintings; the morning-room 
was a cheerful chintz boudoir with a gilt mirror 
and Chippendale chairs ; the conservatory was full 
of choice flowers, and an aviary had been added 
to it. 

“ Mother is so fond of birds,” explained Bess. 
“ They amuse her when her head’s bad and she 
doesn’t care to see anybody. She’s made most 
of them wonderfully tame.” 

Mrs. Haselford proved to be a gentle pleasant 
lady who shook hands kindly with Ingred, then 
excused herself on the score of ill-health, and re- 
tired to her room, leaving the girls to have tea by 
themselves. 

“ Mother’s never been really well for three 
years,” said Bess. “ Not since Bert and Larry 

M 

She did not finish her sentence, but her eyes 
turned to the wall where hung two portraits of 
lads in khaki. Ingred understood. She knew 


Bess at Home 


247 


that Bess had lost both brothers In the war, and 
she had heard that poor Mrs. Haselford had shut 
herself up in her grief and refused all comfort, 
sometimes even to the extent of remaining for 
days upstairs, and neglecting the company of hus- 
band and child. Her attitude to Bess was often 
peculiar, it was almost as if she resented her 
daughter being left when her adored boys had 
been taken from her. Bess never knew how she 
would be received, for sometimes her mother 
would seem unable to bear her presence, and at 
other times would unreasonably chide her for neg- 
lect. It began to dawn on Ingred how very 
lonely her friend must be. She had secretly en- 
vied her the possession of Rotherwood, but now 
she realized how little the house itself would mean 
without the happy home life in which brothers 
and sister had borne their part. 

“ I’d rather have the bungalow with the family, 
than Rotherwood all alone ! ” she ruminated. 
“ As for Muvkins, she’s one in a million. I be- 
lieve she’d be cheery in a coal cellar, so long as 
she’d a solitary chick to keep under her wing. 
Why, if we’d lost our boys, she’d have been try- 
ing to make it up to Queenie and me for not hav- 
ing brothers. I know her! That’s her way!” 

Bess had much to show to her visitor when tea 
in the dainty morning-room was over. There 
were her books, and her photographs and post- 


248 A Popular Schoolgirl 


card albums, and all kinds of girlish possessions, 
and a cocker spaniel with three puppies as fat as 
roly-poly puddings, and a fern-case opening out 
of one of her bedroom windows, and a collection 
of pressed wild flowers, and a green parroquet 
that would sit on her wrist, and allow her to 
stroke its head, though it snapped at strangers. 
They had been working upwards through the 
house, and finally Bess led the way to the top 
landing of all. She paused for a moment before 
the door of an attic room. 

“ I expect you’ll know this place ! ” she re- 
marked shyly, ushering in her guest. 

Ingred looked round in amazement. It was a 
little sanctum which she and Quenrede had shared 
in the old days as a kind of studio. Here they 
had been allowed to try experiments in poker 
work, painting, fret-carving, spatter-work, or any 
other operations which were considered too messy 
to be performed in the school-room downstairs. 
They had loved their “ den,” as they called it, 
and had taken a particular pleasure in covering 
its walls with pictures, cut, most of them, from 
magazines, and stuck on with glue or paste. 
During the occupation of Rotherwood by the 
“ Red Cross,” this room had been locked up, and 
Ingred had imagined that Mr. Haselford would 
have had it papered when the rest of the house 
was decorated. She was delighted to find it in 


Bess at Home 


249 


this untouched condition. All her dear former 
treasures adorned the walls, and she ran from one 
to another rejoicing over them. There was even 
a further surprise. Years ago an artist cousin 
had sketched her portrait in pastel crayons upon 
the color-wash of the wall. It had been done as 
a mere artistic freak, but like many such spontane- 
ous drawings it had been an admirable likeness 
and a very pretty picture. It bore her name, 
“ Ingred,” in flourishy letters underneath. The 
whole of this had now been protected with a sheet 
of glass and enclosed by a frame. A table in the 
room, an easy chair, and a gas-fire seemed to 
point to its occasional occupation. 

“ You actually haven’t had this changed! ” ex- 
claimed Ingred. ‘‘ I thought it must all have 
been swept away by now! ” 

“ No. You see. Father took me over the 
house when first he decided to come here, and 
when he was arranging what papers to choose. I 
fell in love with this dear wee room just as it was, 
and begged that it mightn’t be touched. Father 
let me have it for my very own. It was so differ- 
ent from all other rooms. I liked the pictures 
pasted on the walls, and the bits of poker-work 
nailed up. I knew some other girls must have 
been here, and it gave me a homely feeling, as if 
you had only gone away for a few minutes, and 
might come back any time and talk to me. Then 


250 A Popular Schoolgirl 

there was your portrait. I wondered who ‘ In- 
gred ’ was ! The name struck my fancy immense- 
ly, and so did the face. You remember we 
removed to Rotherwood at the end of July, and 
all the rest of the summer I wondered about the 
portrait. I used to come up here and sit when I 
felt very lonely, and it seemed company, some- 
how. You can’t think how fond I got of it. I 
suppose I was rather silly and absurd, but I knew 
nobody in Grovebury then, and Mother was ill in 
her room, and Father away all day — anyhow I 
got into the habit of talking to it as if it were a 
girl friend, and showing it my paintings, and my 
pressed flowers, and everything I was doing. I 
pretended it liked to see them. Sometimes I even 
brought up my violin and played to it. That 
was nicer than being quite by myself. It grew to 
be as dear to me as the little sister I had always 
longed to have. 

“ Then in September I went to the College. 
You can imagine what a start it gave me when 
somebody called you ‘ Ingred.’ I looked at you, 
and I saw at once that you were the ‘ Ingred ’ of 
my picture, only grown older. I was absolutely 
thrilled. It was very foolish of me, but I 
thought somehow you’d understand. Of course 
you didn’t! How could you? It was idiotic of 
me to expect it. The ‘ Ingred ’ on the wall was 
simply the friend of my fancy.” 


Bess at Home 


251 


“ And the real one was just hateful to you ! ” 
said Ingred sorrowfully. I know I was a per-; 
feet beast ! I was ashamed of myself all the time, 
only I wouldn’t confess it. Lispeth used to slate 
me sometimes for my nastiness. She called me 
‘ a jealous blighter,’ and so I was ! The girl of 
your fancy is a great deal nicer than I am, or ever 
can be, but I’ll try to live up to her as well as I 
can, Bess, if you’ll let me ! ” 

‘‘Let you! ” echoed Bess, linking her arm af- 
fectionately in that of her friend. “ You’re a 
perfect dear nowadays.” 

The girls tore themselves away quite regret- 
fully from the little attic studio, but time was 
passing only too quickly, and they wished to try 
a game of tennis before Ingred returned to the 
hostel. 

“ So you like the house in its new dress? ” asked 
Bess as they walked down the steps into the gar- 
den. “ Father thinks it’s beautiful. He says 
Mr. Saxon is the best architect he knows. He’s 
simply put every thing in exactly the right place. 
Does he only design houses, or does he go in for 
anything bigger? ” 

“ He would if he got the chance,” replied In- 
gred. “What sort of things do you mean?” 

“ Oh, a church, or a museum, or an art gallery.” 

“ I know he’s done most splendid designs for 
these, but he’s never had the luck to get them 


252 A Popular Schoolgirl 

accepted. There’s generally so much influence 
needed to get your plans taken for a big public 
building like that. At least, that’s what Dad 
says. If you have a relation on the City Council, 
it makes a vast difference to your chances. We’ve 
no friends at Court.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Bess, rather abstractedly, and the 
subject dropped. 

The girls had only time for one game of tennis, 
when the stable-clock, chiming half-past six, re- 
minded Ingred that if she wished to do her prepa- 
ration that evening she must rush back to the 
hotel. She bade Bess a reluctant good-by. 

“You’ll come and see me again?” asked the 
latter. 

“ Rather ! And I’ll send thought-waves to ani- 
mate my portrait, and let it talk for me in my 
absence,” laughed Ingred. “ Perhaps you’ll get 
more than you bargain for — I’m an awful chat- 
ter-box. 

“ You’ll never talk too much for me,” said Bess» 
as she kissed her good-by. 


CHAPTER XIX 


The Nun’s Walk 

The Saxon family agreed that whatever might 
be the drawbacks of Wynch-on-the-Wold in win- 
try weather, it was an idyllic spot in the month of 
May. The wall-flowers which Ingred had trans- 
planted were now in their prime, the apple trees 
were in blossom, clumps of lilies were pushing up 
fast, and pink double daisies bordered the front 
walk. The woods in the combe below the moor 
were a mass of bluebells, and here and there those 
who searched might find rarer flowers, orchises, 
lily of the valley, and true lover’s knot. Friends 
who had shirked the journey while the winds blew 
cold, now began to drop in at the bungalow and 
take tea under the apple trees. Ingred, returning 
home on Friday afternoons, would find bicycles 
stacked by the gate and visitors seated in the gar- 
den. She greeted them with enthusiasm or the 
reverse, according to her individual tastes. 

“ Really, Ingred, they don’t seem to teach man- 
ners at the College now ! ” said Quenrede one day. 
253 


254 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ The way you scowled at Mrs. Galsworthy and 
Gertrude was most uncivil. You didn’t look in 
the very least pleased to see them.” 

“ I wasn’t ! They’re the most stupid people on 
the face of the earth! And they stayed such 
ages. I thought they’d never go. Just when I 
wanted a nice private talk with you and Mother 
before the boys came back. Why should you look 
glad to see a person when you’re not? ” 

“ For the sake of manners, my dear! ” 

” Then manners really mean humbug,” de- 
clared Ingred, who loved to argue. “ To say 
you’re glad to see people, when you’re not, is tell- 
ing deliberate fibs. Most hypocritical, I call it! 
Why can’t people tell the truth? ” 

” Because it would generally be offensive and 
unkind to do so,” put in Mother, who happened 
to overhear. “ There’s another side to the ques- 
tion, too. When you say — against your will — 
that you are glad to see somebody, you mean that 
all the best part of you is glad — the kind, gener- 
ous part that likes to give pleasure, not the sel- 
fish lower part that only thinks of its own con- 
venience. So you are not really telling a fib, but 
being true to your nobler self. A great deal of 
what people call ‘ plain speaking ’ is simply giving 
rein to their most uncharitable thoughts. As a 
rule, I say Heaven defend me from those ultra- 
truthful souls who enjoy ‘ speaking their minds.’ ” 


The Nun’s Walk 25s 

‘‘ But are we to gush over every bore? ” asked 
Ingred. 

“ There are limits, of course. We can’t let all 
our time be frittered away by idle friends, but we 
can generally manage tactfully without offending 
them. Don’t look so woe-begone, childie! No- 
body else is coming to-night, and I promise you tea 
in the woods to-morrow.” 

“ By ourselves? ” 

“ Unless anyone very nice comes over to join 
us,” put in Quenrede quickly. 

“ You girls shall give the invitations. I won’t 
bring any middle-aged people,” laughed Mother, 
with a sly glance at Quenrede. 

The party in the bluebell woods on Saturday 
was entirely a family one, with the exception of 
Mr. Broughten, who rode over on a motor-bicycle 
ostensibly to lend some microscopic slides to 
Athelstane, though Ingred suspected there was 
another attraction in the visit. Quenrede, who 
professed great surprise, gave him a guarded wel- 
come. 

“ After all the fuss you made about my man- 
ners yesterday, you might have seemed more glad 
to see him,” sniffed Ingred critically. 

“ Might I? Well, really, I think I’m going to 
hang a label round my neck: ‘Pleased to meet 
you I Let ’em all come ! ’ It would save trouble. 
Stick tight to me when we’re gathering bluebells. 


256 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Three’s better company sometimes than two. 
Don’t I like him? Oh yes, he’s all right, but I’m 
not keen on a tete-a-tete." 

After which hint, Ingred, who had some ac- 
quaintance with the perversity of Quenrede’s fem- 
inine mind, did exactly the opposite, and, aban- 
doning her basket to the custody of Mr. Brough- 
ten, left him helping her sister to gather bluebells, 
and took herself off with Hereward. 

“ He’s not half bad ! ” she ruminated laugh- 
ingly. “ Not of course a fairy prince exactly, or 
even a Member of Parliament, but the bubbles on 
the pool by the whispering stones certainly came 
to ‘J,’ and his name is ‘ John,’ for I asked Athel- 
stane. There’s the finger of fate about it, and 
Queenie had better make up her mind.” 

With Ingred, however, school matters were at 
present much more interesting than speculating 
about her sister’s possible future. It was an in- 
teresting term at the College. Cricket and tennis 
were in full swing, and she took an active part in 
both. The best of being at the hostel was that 
the boarders had the benefit of the tennis courts 
in the evening, and so secured an advantage in the 
matter of practice over any girls who did not 
possess a private court at home. So far thq Col- 
lege had not competed in tournaments, but Blos- 
som Webster was hopeful that later on in the 
term some champions might be chosen who would 


The Nun’s Walk 257 

not disgrace the Games Club. Meantime she 
urged everybody to practice, and coached her fav- 
orites with the eye of ah expert. Nora was par- 
ticularly marked out for future distinction. She 
had made tremendous strides lately, and her 
swift serves were the terror of her opponents. 
The hostel felt justly proud of her achievements, 
and would collect in the evening, after prep., to 
watch her play a set of singles with Susie Wake- 
field, who, though older and taller, almost in- 
variably lost. 

Susie had good points of her own, however, and 
with Nora as partner could beat even Blossom 
and Aline occasionally. No doubt the future 
credit of the school was in their hands. 

One evening it happened that Nora was in a 
particularly slashing and reckless mood, and she 
sent no less than three balls flying straight over 
the wall that bordered the tennis courts. They 
fell into the premises of old Dr. Broadfield, whose 
garden adjoined that of the school. They were 
not the first that had done so, indeed so many 
balls had gone over lately that the loss was grow- 
ing serious. At one time the girls had been wont 
to ring Dr. Broadfield’s front-door bell and beg 
permission to pick up their property, but they had 
been received so sourly by his elderly house-keep- 
er, that they hardly dared to ask again. 

“Three good balls gone in half an hour!” 


258 A Popular Schoolgirl 

grieved Verity. “ There’ll soon be none left at 
this rate. I believe there must be a dozen at least 
lying on the grass over there, only that stingy old 
thing won’t throw them back. It’s really too 
bad.” 

“How could we possibly get them?” rumi- 
nated Doreen. 

“ Sham ill, get Dr. Broadfield to attend, and 
coax them out of him,” suggested Fil. 

Doreen shook her head. 

“ He’s not the school doctor, unfortunately. 
When Millie sprained her ankle. Miss Burd sent 
for Dr. Harrison. We might fish for them with 
a butterfly net tied to the end of a drilling pole, 
if they’re anywhere near enough.” 

“ They’re not. I peeped over the wall and 
they’ve rolled quite a long way off.” 

“ How weak ! What are we to do ? ” 

“ There’s nothing for it,” said Ingred slowly, 
“ but to make a sally into the enemy’s trenches 
and fetch them back! ” 

“ Oh ! I dare say I But who’s going to do the 
sallying business ? ” 

“ / will, if you like.” 

“ Tom!” 

“ Yes; I don’t mind a scrap.” 

“ You heroine 1 ” 

“ Don’t mensh ! ” 

“ But suppose you’re caught? ” 


The Nun’s Walk 259 

“ I shall have to risk that, of course. I’ll re- 
connoiter carefully first.” 

The boundary between the College premises 
and the property of Dr. Broadfield was part of 
the old Abbey wall. The mortar had crumbled 
away from the stones, leaving large interstices, so 
it was quite easy to climb. With a little boosting 
from Verity and Nora, Ingred successfully 
reached the top, and peered over into the neigh- 
boring garden. Just below her was a rockery, 
which offered not only an easy means of descent, 
but a quick mode of egress in the case of the 
necessity of beating a hasty retreat. 

Beyond the flower-bed, and lying on the lawn, 
were no less than seven tennis balls, marked with 
the unmistakable blue cross that claimed them for 
the College. The sight was enough to spur on the 
faintest heart. Apparently there was nobody in 
this part of the garden, and no watchful face 
peered from any of the windows. It was cer- 
tainly an opportunity that ought not to be missed. 
Ingred slipped first one foot and then the other 
over the wall, and dropped on to the rockery. It 
was the work of a minute to pick up the balls and 
throw them back to rejoicing friends. If she her- 
self had followed immediately there would have 
been no sequel to the episode. But happening to 
look under the bushes, she noticed another ball, 
and went in quest of it. It seemed a shame to re- 


26o a Popular Schoolgirl 

turn until she had found any that might have 
strayed farther afield, so she dived under the rho- 
dodendron bushes, and was rewarded with two 
more balls. She had issued out on to another 
part of the lawn, and was on the very point of re- 
treating, when she suddenly heard voices on the 
path between the bushes. To run to the wall 
would be to cross open country, so, with an in- 
stinctive desire to seek cover, she dived into a 
summer-house close by, and shut the door. The 
footsteps came nearer. Were they going to fol- 
low her into her retreat, and catch her? It 
would be too ignominious ! Peeping warily 
through a small window of the summer-house, she 
saw two young people, apparently much interested 
in each other, strolling leisurely up. To her im- 
mense relief they did not attempt to enter, but 
sat down on a seat outside the window. They 
were so near that she could perforce hear every 
word, and was an unwilling but compulsory eaves- 
dropper. 

At first the conversation consisted mostly of 
tender nothings: “He” certainly called her 
“Darling!”; “She” replied: “Oh, Donald, 
don’t ! ” and a sound followed so suspiciously like 
a kiss that Ingred, only a few feet away from 
them, almost giggled aloud. She wondered how 
long they were going to keep her a prisoner. It 
might be very pleasant for themselves to sit 


The Nun’s Walk 


261 


“ spooning ” in the garden on a mild May evening, 
but if they prolonged their enjoyment beyond eight 
o’clock, the hostel supper-bell would ring, and 
any girl not in her place at the table would lose 
a mark for punctuality. 

“ He ” on the other side of the window, was 
waxing sentimental about old times and bygone 
days. 

“ I’m glad you’re not a nun, darling ! ” he re- 
marked fatuously. “If you had lived in the an- 
cient Abbey, I shouldn’t have been able to walk 
about the garden with you, should I ? ’’ 

“ I suppose not,” she ventured, “ especially if 
you’d been a monk.” 

“ I dare say some of them did manage to do a 
little love-making sometimes, though. What’s 
that story about the ghost? ” 

“The White Nun, do you mean? The one 
that haunts the College gardens?” 

(Ingred pricked up her ears at this). 

“ Yes. Isn’t there some legend or other about 
her? ” 

“ I believe there is, but I’ve forgotten it. I 
only know she walks on moonlight nights, down 
the steps by the sun-dial, and then disappears into 
the wall near the Abbey. At least she’s supposed 
to. I’ve never met anybody who’s seen her. 
Don’t talk of such shuddery things! You make 
me feel creepy ! ” 


262 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Apparently he offered masculine protection, for 
another suggestive sound was followed by a giggle 
and a remonstrance. The hostel bell was ringing, 
and the Abbey clock was striking eight. Were 
they going to stay talking all night? Ingred was 
growing desperate. She wondered how she was 
going to explain her absence to Mrs. Best. She 
even debated whether it would be advisable to 
open the summer-house door, bolt across the lawn, 
and trust to luck that the matter was not reported 
at the College. She had her hand on the latch 
when the feminine voice outside remarked : 

“ It’s getting chilly, Donald! ” 

“ Don’t catch cold, darling! ” with tender soli- 
citude. “ Would you rather go indoors? ” 

“Hooray!” triumphed Ingred inwardly, 
though she did not dare to utter a sound. 

It took a little while for the lovers to get under 
way and finally stroll back along the path among 
the bushes. Ingred gave them time to walk out 
of sight and hearing, then made a dash for the 
rockery, scrambled over the wall, tore across the 
tennis courts, and entered the dining-room nearly 
ten minutes late for supper. Mrs. Best looked at 
her reproachfully, and Doreen, who was monitress 
for the month, took a note-book from her pocket 
and made an entry therein. Nora and Verity and 
Fil went on eating sago blanc-mange with stolid 
countenances that betrayed no knowledge of their 


The Nun’s Walk 


263 


room-mate’s doings, but that night, when The 
Foursomes met in the privacy of Dormitory 2, 
they demanded an account of her adventure. 

She certainly had a piece of interesting news to 
confide. 

“ Did you know that a ghost haunts the gar- 
den?” 

“No! Oh, I say, where?” 

“ That part by the sun-dial. I’ve heard it 
called ‘The Nun’s Walk!”’ 

“So have I; but I never knew there was a 
ghost ! ” 

“ It’s supposed to walk on moonlight nights.” 

“ How fearfully thrillsome ! ” 

“ I’ve never seen a ghost ! ” shivered Fil. 

“No more have I — and I’ve never met any- 
one who exactly has. It’s generally their cousin’s 
cousin who’s told them about it.” 

“ There’s a moon to-night,” remarked Nora. 

“So there is! ” 

The four girls looked at one another, hair 
brushes in hand. Each had it on the tip of her 
tongue to make a suggestion. 

“ I dare you to go! ” said Verity at last. 

“ Not alone?” 

Fil was clutching already at Nora’s hand. 

“ Well, no! Hardly alone. I vote we all go 
together and try if we can see anything.” 

“ It would be rather spooksomely jinky ! ” 


2^4 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ Well, look here, don’t let’s undress properly, 
but get into bed, and cover ourselves up until 
Nurse has been her rounds, then we’ll slip down- 
stairs and out through the side door into the gar- 
den. Are you game ? ” 

“ Who’s afraid? ” said Ingred valiantly. 

Upstairs in their bedroom, with the gas turned 
on, it was easy enough to feel courageous. Their 
spirits rose indeed at the prospect of such an ad- 
venture. Nurse Warner, who came into the 
room a little later, looked round at the four beds, 
turned out the gas, and departed without a suspi- 
cion. She had not been gone five minutes when a 
surreptitious dressing took place, and four figures 
in dark coats stole down the stairs. Though the 
building of the College might be absolutely mod- 
ern, the garden was a relic of mediaeval days. It 
had formerly belonged to the nunnery of St. 
Mary’s, and had adjoined the Abbey. Parts of 
the crumbling old wall were still left, and a flagged 
path led from a sun-dial to some ruins. In the 
day-time it was a cheerful place, and a blaze of 
color. The girls had never before seen it in its 
night aspect. On this May evening it had a quiet 
beauty that was most impressive. The full moon 
shone on the great dark pile of the Abbey towers 
and the beech avenue beyond. There was just 
light enough in the garden to distinguish bushes 


The Nun’s Walk 


265 


as heavy masses, and to trace the paths from the 
grass. The air was sweet with the scent of 
flowers. 

It is amazing how different conditions can alter 
a scene: at noon, with the hum from the busy 
streets, it was commonplace enough ; by moonlight 
it became a mystic bower of enchantment. The 
girls walked along very quietly, treading on the 
grass so as to make no noise. A slight mist was 
rising from the ground near the Abbey; in the 
rays of the moon it resembled a lake. Every- 
thing, indeed, was altered. The outline of the 
sumach bush was like a crouching tiger; the 
laburnum tassels waved like skeleton fingers. It 
seemed a witching, unreal world. 

Four rather scared girls crept along, clasping 
hands for moral support. Each secretly would 
have been relieved to abandon the quest, but did 
not like to be the first to turn tail. They had 
determined to walk from the sun-dial to the Ab- 
bey wall and back again. So far the garden, 
though mysterious, showed no signs of anything 
supernatural. They began to pluck up courage, 
and even to talk to one another in low whispers. 
At the ruins they turned and looked back towards 
the sun-dial. The moonlight streamed along the 
flagged path, and shimmered on the clumps of 
early yellow lilies. 


A Popular Schoolgirl 


What was that, stealing from under the shelter 
of the hawthorn tree? The girls gasped and al- 
most stopped breathing. 

A tall figure, clothed in some long white gar- 
ment, was gliding towards them. It kept in the 
shadow, and they could see no details, only a light 
mass that was slowly and steadily advancing ap- 
parently straight to where they were crouching 
beside the wall. Fil was trembling like a leaf, 
Nora declared afterward that her hair stood on 
end, Ingred and Verity felt shivers run down their 
spines. Nearer and nearer came the white figure. 
Its approach was more than flesh and blood could 
stand. With a wild shriek Fil dashed across the 
lawn, followed closely by Nora, Ingred, and 
Verity. 

“ Girls ! ” cried a clear and well-known voice. 
“ Girls ! Stop ! What are you doing here? ” 
There was no mistaking the tone of command 
of the head-mistress. Four amazed and crest- 
fallen damsels halted and turned back, to find 
Miss Burd, attired in a white dressing-gown, 
standing in the moonlight on the grass. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she asked. 
“ And why aren’t you all in bed? ” 

It is always difficult to give explanations, and 
(to such a matter-of-fact person as Miss Burd) 
it seemed particularly silly to have to confess that 
they had come out ghost-hunting, and had mis- 


The Nun’s Walk 267 

taken her for a spirit. She emptied the vials of 
her scorn upon their dejected heads. 

“ Don’t let me hear of any more nonsense of 
this sort! ” she finished. “ I should have thought 
you were too intelligent to believe in such rub- 
bish. As for leaving your dormitory at this hour, 
you deserve to be locked in the cycle-shed for the 
night. I shall, of course, report you to Mrs. 
Best, and none of you will play tennis for a week, 
as a punishment.” 

Miss Burd, bristling with anger, swept the de- 
linquents before her to the door of the hostel, and 
watched them flee upstairs, then went to lay the 
matter before Mrs. Best. 

In Dormitory 2, four girls got into bed at top- 
most speed. 

“ Of all the ill-luck ! ” mourned Fil. 

“ I didn’t know Miss Burd prowled about the 
garden in a dressing-gown,” exclaimed Ingred. 

“ She did look exactly like a ghost ! ” confirmed 
Verity. 

“ Tennis off for a whole week! Blossom will 
be furious! It’s too absolutely grizzly for any- 
thing!” groused Nora. “I wish the wretched 
old ghost had been at Jericho before we went to 
look for it!” 


CHAPTER XX 


Under the Lanterns 

It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and 
though Nora, Fil, Ingred, and Verity might chafe 
at being debarred from tennis for a whole week, 
their adventure in the garden had given them an 
idea. How it exactly originated could not be 
decided, for each fiercely claimed the full credit 
for it. Its evolution, however, was somewhat as 
follows : 

Stage I. How lovely the garden looked in the 
evening. 

Stage 2. Why should we not all enjoy it some 
time? 

Stage 3. Miss Burd evidently does. 

Stage 4. And looked very fascinating in her 
white dressing-gown. 

Stage 5. It was exactly like a fancy dress. 

Stage 6. Why should not we all wear fancy 
dress ? 

Stage 7. Let us ask Miss Burd to let the hostel 
have a fancy-dress dance in the 
school garden. 

Great minds generally think in company, and 

268 


Under the Lanterns 


269 


often hit upon the same invention at the same 
moment, so perhaps all four girls had an equal 
share in the brain-wave. They communicated it 
cautiously to companions, and as it caught on ” 
they sounded Mrs. Best, and finding her favorably 
disposed to the scheme, begged her to intercede 
for them with Miss Burd. The head-mistress 
was wonderfully gracious about the matter, gave 
full permission for the dance, promised to be pres- 
ent herself, and allowed the invitation to be ex- 
tended to any mistresses and seniors who would 
care to join the party. It was quite a long time 
since the hostel had had any particularly exciting 
doings, so that the girls flung themselves into their 
preparation with much enthusiasm. Those who 
were lucky enough already to possess fancy cos- 
tumes, or who were able to borrow them^ of 
course scored, and the rest set to work to manufac- 
ture anything that came to hand. It was to be 
in the nature of an impromptu affair, but a few 
days’ notice was given, and the girls were able to 
devote a Saturday to the all-absorbing problem. 
Ingred, home for the week-end, enlisted the help 
of Mother and Quenrede, and turned the bunga- 
low almost upside down in her quest for suitable 
accessories. She thought of a number of charac- 
ters she would have liked to impersonate, but was 
always balked by the lack of some vital article of 
dress. 


270 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ It’s no use ! ” she lamented. “ I can’t be 
‘ Joan of Arc ’ without a suit of armor, or ‘ Queen 
Elizabeth ' when I haven’t a flowered velvet robe ! 
I’m so tired of all the old things ! It’s too stale 
to twist some roses in my hair for ‘ Summer,’ and 
I’ve been a gipsy so often that everybody knows 
my red handkerchief and gilt beads. I’d as soon 
be a Red Indian squaw ! ” 

“And why shouldn’t you be?” asked Quen- 
rede. “ It’s a remarkably pretty costume.” 

“ Oh, I dare say, if I could beg, borrow, or 
steal it! ” 

“ You’ve no need to do either, my dear. I’ve 
had a brain-wave, and we’ll fix it up for you at 
home. Yes, I mean it! Allow me to introduce 
myself : ‘ Miss Quenrede Saxon, Court Cos- 

tumier. The very latest theatrical productions.’ 
I’ll make you look so that your own mother will 
hardly know you ! ” 

“I’d like to puzzle them!” rejoiced Ingred. 
“ Miss Burd said she should have a parade, and 
hinted something about a prize. They always 
give points to whoever has the best disguise. 
Masks are barred, but we may paint our faces. 
I think I shall be rather choice as a squaw ! ” 

“ You ought to have me with you as your 
‘ brave ’ ! ” chuckled Hereward. 

“ It’s a ‘ Ladies Only ’ dance, so you can’t be 
invited, my boy! There won’t be a solitary 


Under the Lanterns 271 

masculine individual present — even the gardener 
will have gone home.” 

“ You bet folks will peep in ! ” 

“ No, they won’t. The premises are strictly 
private.” 

Quenrede was in some respects a clever and 
ingenious little person. She was not much good 
at ordinary dressmaking, where fashion must be 
followed, but she displayed great originality in 
her construction of Ingred’s fancy costume. 
There were two clean sacks in the house, and she 
commandeered them. She cut one into a skirt 
and the other into a jumper, stitched up the sides, 
and frayed out the bottoms to represent fringes. 
Then she took her water-color paints, mixed them 
with Chinese white to form a strong body color, 
and painted Indian patterns on both garments. 
The head-dress she considered a triumph. She 
went to a neighboring poultry farm, and boldly 
begged the tail feathers which had been plucked 
the day before from some game fowls. These 
she glued round a cardboard crown, and the ef- 
fect was magnificent. A dress rehearsal was 
held, and the family rejoiced over Ingred’s most 
decidedly Wild West appearance. 

“ You have a pair of real moccasins that Uncle 
Ernest sent you for bedroom slippers. I’ll cut 
some strips of cloth into fringe for leggings, and 
you can wear Athelstane’s leather belt, and carry 


27.2 A Popular Schoolgirl 

an axe for a tomahawk,” said Quenrede, survey- 
ing her work with critical satisfaction. “ Don’t 
forget to paint your face ! ” 

“ I shan’t show anyone my costume before- 
hand,” chuckled Ingred. “ I really don’t believe 
anyone will know me ! What luck if I won a 
prize for the best disguise ! ” 

” Bet you anything you like you don’t! ” mur- 
mured Hereward. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” 

“ Because there may be others even better ! ” 
“ Well, of course, that’s for Miss Burd to 
judge ! But I think I’ve a spurring chance, at any 
rate I ” 

The dance was to be held on Monday evening 
after supper, when it was just beginning to grow 
dusk. The mistresses had taken the matter up 
quite enthusiastically, and had stretched some 
wires across the garden, and hung up Chinese lan- 
terns. The hostel piano had been pulled close to 
the window, so that the strains of music could 
float out into the garden. At least fifteen seniors 
had accepted the invitation, and it was rumored 
that Miss Burd had invited a few private friends. 
Supper was held earlier than usual, so as to allow 
time for the all-important operation of dressing, 
and the moment it was finished every inmate of 
the hostel fled to her bedroom. Dormitory 2 
was naturally a scene of much confusion. The 


Under the Lanterns 


273 


girls tried to put on their own costumes and help 
each other at the same time. Fil, as a Dresden 
China Shepherdess, needed much assistance in the 
settling of her panniers, and the arrangement of 
her curls, which by special permission from Mrs. 
Best had been twisted up in curl papers from four 
o’clock until the last available moment, and came 
out, much to Fil’s satisfaction, in quite creditable 
ringlets. The effect was so altogether charming 
that her room-mates called a general halt for ad- 
miration. 

“ You look like a mixture of Dolly Varden and 
Sweet Lavender, with a dash of Maid Marian 
thrown in,” decided Verity. 

” I hope my hair’ll keep in curl ! There’s 
rather a damp feeling in the air,” fluttered Fil 
anxiously. 

“ You could fly indoors, and give it a twist with 
the tongs, if it gets very limp,” suggested Nora. 

Nora herself was going as a personification of 
“ The Kitchen.” Her skirt was draped with 
dusters and dish-cloths, she wore a small dish- 
cover as a hat, clothes-pegs were suspended round 
her neck as a necklace, and she brandished a roll- 
ing-pin in her hand. 

“ I’m bound to be something comic,” she as- 
sured the others. “ I’d never keep my face 
straight for a romantic character. I could no 
more live up to Lady Jane Grey than I could fly! 
She’s above me altogether 1 ” 


274 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Verity, who had borrowed a Dutch costume 
slightly too small for hex-, was trying to squeeze 
her proportions into the tight velvet bodice, and 
looked dubiously at the sabots. 

“ I’ll never be able to dance in those ! ” she 
decided. “ I’ll put them on to start with, and 
then kick them off and slip on my sandals instead. 
They’re the most extraordinary clumpy things in 
the world, I feel like a cat walking in walnut 
shells!” 

Ingred’s toilet progressed very favorably till 
it came to the stage of coloring her face. She 
was not quite sure as to the best means of obtain- 
ing a Red Indian complexion. First she tried 
rubbing it with soil from the garden, but that was 
a painful process which almost scraped the skin 
from her cheeks. So she washed her face and 
used cocoa. She mixed it in a cup and dabbed it 
over, but it would not go on smoothly, and the 
result was so patchy and hideous that once more 
she brought out her sponge and wiped it off. At 
that point Verity came to the rescue, smeared the 
poor cheeks (already sore through such ill-treat- 
ment) with vanishing cream, then powdered on 
some dry cocoa, which certainly gave a dusky and 
non-European aspect to her features, especially 
when combined with the feather head-dress. 
Her dark hair, plaited in two long tails, com- 
pleted the illusion. The girls held a complacent 


Under the Lanterns 


•275 


review of their toilets, then walked downstairs 
with caution, for Nora’s dish-cover was difficult 
to balance as a hat, and Verity’s heels kept slip- 
ping out of the sabots. Fil’s ringlets, alas ! were 
already beginning to untwist, and Ingred’s juniper, 
put on in too big a hurry, showed symptoms of 
splitting down the seam. There was no time for 
repairs of any sort, however. They were five 
minutes late, and the rest of the company were 
assembled on the lawn. The boarders from the 
hostel, together with mistresses and seniors who 
had come by invitation, made a total of more than 
fifty persons, all in fancy dress. 

These gay costumes were a pretty sight against 
the background of trees and bushes and flower- 
beds. The sun had set, leaving a yellow glow in 
the sky, and the Chinese lanterns were beginning 
to glow in the gathering twilight. It was cer- 
tainly a varied crowd; all centuries had met to- 
gether. A Japanese damsel walked arm-in-arm 
with a Lancashire witch; an Italian peasant 
hob-a-nobbed with “ The Queen of Sheba,” a 
Spanish lady was talking to “ Old Mother Hub- 
bard,” while such characters as “ A Medicine 
Bottle,” or “ An Aeroplane ” rubbed shoulders 
with an “ Egyptian Princess ” or “ Dick Whit- 
tington’s Cat.” 

Miss Burd, garbed appropriately as Chaucer’s 
Prioress, received the company at the top of the 
sun-dial steps, looking, in the opinion of the Four- 


276 A Popular Schoolgirl 

some League, quite sufficiently like the ghost of 
yesterday to have justified squeals had they met 
her alone. When the ceremony of introduction 
was over, the guests dispersed about the lawn. 
Miss Perry struck up a waltz on the piano, and 
the fun began. Dancing on the grass, in the 
growing darkness, with the Chinese lanterns send- 
ing out a soft but uncertain radiance overhead, 
was a new experience to most of the school. It 
was difficult not to step on to the flower-beds, or 
to brush against the bushes. Trailing garments 
were decidedly in the way, and came to grief. 
There was a delirious sort of Eastern feeling 
about it — a kind of combination of “ The Thou- 
sand and One Nights ” and the “ Rubaiyat of 
Omar Khayyam.” The Abbey tower for once 
seemed out of place, and ought to have changed 
miraculously into a pagoda or a minaret. 

It was after the girls had been dancing for 
some little time that Ingred first noticed a couple 
whom she did not remember to have seen before. 
They followed persistently in her steps, and even 
gently bumped into her once or twice, thus com- 
pelling her attention. She looked at them, con- 
siderably mystified. One was attired in Early 
Victorian Costume, with a crinoline, a little tippet, 
and a poke bonnet, from which peeped some be- 
witching ringlets; the other, in a gorgeous Turk- 
ish costume, was enveloped in a shimmering gauze 
veil. 


Under the Lanterns 277 

“Who are those? ” Ingred asked her partner. 

But Verity could not tell. 

In the twilight it was, of course, easy to make 
mistakes, but Ingred began to have a strong sus- 
picion that neither of the mysterious partners 
belonged to the school. They were certainly not 
members of the Fifth or Sixth. Perhaps some of 
the Juniors had forced themselves in? No, they 
were too tall for Juniors. 

“ Perhaps they are ghosts! ” shivered Verity. 

“ Ghosts don’t bump into people. These are 
real substantial flesh and blood 1 ” 

“ It’s so dirk, we can hardly see.” 

“ Well, I vote we keep close to them, and next 
time we get near a lantern, we’ll turn the tables 
and bump into them, and try to see who they 
are.” 

It was easier said than done, however; the 
strangers seemed to have changed their tactics, 
and instead of pursuing Ingred and Verity now 
endeavored to avoid them. No “ elusive Pimper- 
nels ” could have been more difficult to follow. 
They would come quite close and then suddenly 
dodge and glide away, only to reappear and re- 
peat the same tantalizing performance. Ingred 
and Verity began to get on their mettle. It was 
so evidently done on purpose that they were 
fully determined to catch the errant pair. After 
a long game at hide-and-seek they at last managed 


278 A Popular Schoolgirl 

to dance along side them, and laying violent hands 
upon them, to drag them into the light of a lan- 
tern. As Ingred gazed for a moment in per- 
plexity, the Early Victorian lady gave a most un- 
Early Victorian wink inside the poke bonnet. 

“Hereward! How dare you!” gasped his 
sister. 

A firm hand drew her away from the light, and 
in the shelter of a laurel bush, a voice, choking 
with laughter, proclaimed: 

“Done you, old girl! Done you brown! 
What about that bet? I told you you’d never 
know me ! ” 

“ You abominable young wretch,” replied In- 
gred, laughing in spite of herself. “ How did 
you manage it? And who is your friend? ” 

“Allow me to introduce Vashti, Queen of 
Persia ! ” 

“ Bunkum ! It’s a boy ! I know it is ! ” 

The explosive sounds issuing from under the 
shimmering veil of Queen Vashti certainly 
sounded more masculine than feminine, and that 
Persian princess confessed presently to the name 
of Franklin. 

“ He’s a chum of mine,” explained Hereward, 
“ and he lives close by, so we made it up to come 
together. His sister lent us the clothes and 
dressed us. I say, your Prioress never found us 
out, did she? What about that prize? ” 


Under the Lanterns 


279 


“ There isn’t going to be a prize, and you cer- 
tainly wouldn’t have deserved it! Look here, 
you’d better wangle yourselves off before it gets 
about who you are. I should get into a row, not 
you I ” 

“ Would the Prioress kick up rough? ” 

“ She’d probably think I’d planned the whole 
business, and encouraged you to come.” 

“ Even if we apologized? ” 

“ She wouldn’t accept an apology. If you want 
me to have any tennis next week, you had better 
clear out.” 

“ Just a round with you first, and Franklin 
can take your friend, or vice versa if you prefer 
it! ” 


“You impudent boy! Certainly not. I 
daren’t risk it. Look, Miss Strong is bringing 
out the lamp, and putting it on the sun-dial, and 
I believe Miss Perry is going to take a flashlight 
photo presently. If you want to disgrace me for 


“We’ll go!” sighed a mournful voice. 
“ Though it’s Adam and Eve turned out of Para- 
dise. I say, Franklin, they don’t want us, after 
all our trouble! We’d better be getting on, I 
suppose. Our deepest respects to the Prioress. 
She’s given us a delightful evening, if she only 
knew it. We’d like to come again some time. 
Ta-ta!” 


CHAPTER XXI 


The Abbey Recital 

Now that Ingred had at last made friends with 
Bess, she found they had innumerable subjects of 
interest in common. They were both keen tennis 
players, dabbled a little in art, pursued Nature 
study, liked acting, when they had any opportunity 
of showing their talents in that line, and were 
enthusiastic over music. Bess was making as 
good progress on the violin as Ingred on the 
piano, so there seemed great possibilities of play- 
ing together. Sometimes when Bess brought her 
instrument to school for her lesson, she and In- 
gred would try over a few pieces, and other girls 
Avho chanced to be near would collect and act 
audience. 

“ I vote we get up a musical society next year,” 
suggested Ingred. “ It’s impossible this term — 
we’ve too much on our hands already — but if the 
societies are rearranged in September, we’ll agi- 
tate to let music take a much bigger place than 
it has done so far.” 

“Yes, that would be glorious!” agreed Bess, 
280 


28 i 


The Abbey Recital 

with visions of a school choir, and even a school 
orchestra, dancing before her eyes. “ Signor 
Chianti is leaving Grovebury, so if we have a new 
violin master next term, I hope it will be some- 
body who’s enthusiastic and able and willing to 
organize things.” 

“ That’s the point, of course. Dr. Linton is 
very able, but not willing to bother with us beyond 
our lessons — he’s so frightfully busy. I suppose 
he feels that after training the Abbey choir, and 
conducting choral societies to sing his cantatas, he 
doesn’t care to trouble himself over schoolgirls.” 

“ He’s a real musician, though. I often wish 
I could study under him. I’d love to play some- 
thing with him, just once, to see how it feels to 
have him accompany me. I think it would be so 
inspiring, it would just make one let oneself go! 
I stay every Sunday evening after service at the 
Abbey to hear his recitals. Occasionally some- 
body plays the violin, and his acompaniment is 
simply gorgeous. He manages to make it sound 
like a whole orchestra. I’ve never played with 
an organ. It’s so much fuller than a piano.” 

“Yes,” agreed Ingred contemplatively. 

Bess’s remarks had given her an idea, but she 
did not want to communicate it at once to her 
friend. It was nothing more or less than that she 
should ask Dr. Linton to allow Bess to play with 
him some time in the Abbey. She wondered 


282 A Popular Schoolgirl 

whether she dared. His temper was still de- 
cidedly irritable, and it was quite uncertain 
whether he would receive the suggestion gra- 
ciously, or snap her head off. She thought, how- 
ever, it was worth venturing. 

“ I’ll try to catch him in an amiable mood,” 
she decided. 

In order not to arouse any grounds for irrita- 
tion, she practiced particularly well, and took her 
next work to him at a high stage of excellence. 

“ Bravo ! ” he said, when she had finished her 
“ Serenade.” “ I believe you’ve really got some 
music in you! You brought out that crescendo 
passage very well indeed. We want a little more 
delicacy in these arpeggios, and then it will do. 
Your touch has improved very much lately.” 

It was so seldom that her master launched forth 
into praise, that Ingred colored with pleasure. 
Now certainly seemed the time, if ever — to put 
in a word for Bess. 

“ Oh, Dr. Linton, may I ask you to do some- 
thing for me? ” she blurted out. 

He thrust back his hair with a mock-pathetic 
gesture. 

“ What is it? ” he inquired humorously. “ An- 
other autograph album? Or a subscription? 
I’ve grown cautious by experience, and I don’t 
answer ‘ Yes, thou shalt have it to the half of my 
kingdom ! ’ I never give blind promises.” 


283 


The Abbey Recital 

“ It isn’t an autograph album (though I’d be 
glad to have your name in mine, all the same, if 
I may bring it some day), it is this: I’ve a friend 
at school, Bess Haselford, who plays the violin 
very well. She has lessons from Signor Chianti. 
She goes to all your recitals, and she would so 
love some time to try a piece over with the organ. 
Do you think, some day when you are in the 
Abbey, you could let her? I know it’s fearful 
cheek to ask you ! ” 

“ Why, bring her by all means,” said Dr. Lin- 
ton heartily. “ Let me see, I have an organ pupil 
to-morrow at 3.30. Suppose you come at half- 
past four, and I’ll give her ten minutes with plea- 
sure. I can fit it in before the choir practice, I 
dare say.” 

“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Ingred. “We 
can come straight on from school.” 

It was delightful to have caught Dr. Linton in 
such an amiable mood. Ingred hastened to tell 
the good news to Bess, and also to beg the neces- 
sary permission from Miss Burd. 

Bess, greatly thrilled, turned up next afternoon 
with her violin and music-case, and when classes 
were over they walked across to the Abbey. 
The pupil was just finishing his lesson, and some 
rather extraordinary sounds were palpitating 
among the arches and pillars of the old Minster. 

“ It must take ages to learn to manage all those 


284 A Popular Schoolgirl 

stops and pedals properly,” commented Bess. 
“ I’m glad a violin has only four strings — 
they’re quite enough ! ” 

They sat in a pew, and waited till the lesson 
was over, then ventured into the chancel. Dr. 
Linton saw them in the looking-glass which hung 
over his seat, and turning round beckoned them 
to him. 

“ So you want to hear what it’s like to play 
with an organ?” he said kindly to Bess, sound- 
ing the notes for her to tune her violin, and at the 
same time turning over her music. “ What have 
we got here? It must be something I know, so 
that I can improvise an accompaniment. Let us 
try this Impromptu. Don’t be afraid of your 
instrument, and bring the tone well out. Remem- 
ber, you’re in a church, and not in a drawing- 
room.” 

Bess, fluttered, nervous, but fearfully excited 
and pleased, declared herself ready, and launched 
into the Impromptu. Dr. Linton accompanied 
her with the finished skill of a clever musician. 
He subdued the organ just sufficiently to allow 
the violin to lead, but brought in such a beautiful 
range of harmonies that the piece really became 
a duet. 

“ Why, that’s capital ! ” he declared at the con- 
clusion. ” What else have you inside that case? 
We’ll have this Prelude now; it’s rather a favor- 


The Abbey Recital 285 

ite of mine. The Bourree? Oh, we’ll take that 
afterwards ! ” 

Ingred had only expected Dr. Linton to play 
one piece with Bess, but he went on and on, and 
even kept the choir waiting while he made her 
try the Prelude over again. 

“ I’ve had quite an enjoyable half-hour,” he 
said, shutting the books at last. “ You’re a sym- 
pathetic little player! Look here, the lady who 
was to have helped me with my recital on Sunday 
week has failed me. Suppose you take her place, 
and play the Prelude. It would go very well if 
we practiced it a few times together.” 

” Play at the recital 1 ” gasped Bess. 

“ Why not ? Ask your father when you go 
home, and send me a note to-morrow, for I want 
to get the thing fixed up. These boys are waiting 
for me now. I have to train them for an anthem. 
You can come and practice with me on Friday 
at the same time, 4.30.” 

Dr. Linton dismissed the girls as if he took it 
entirely for granted that the matter was settled. 
Bess was almost overwhelmed by the proposal. 
It was considered a great honor to play in the 
Abbey, and she had never dreamed that it could 
fall to her lot to be asked to take part in the Sun- 
day recital. She was not sure how her father 
and mother would view the idea, but rather to her 
surprise they both readily acquiesced. 


286 A Popular Schoolgirl 

“ We shall have to get your grandfather to 
come over and hear you,” said Mr. Haselford. 

” Oh yes ! And may I ask Ingred to stay with 
us for the week-end? You see, she can’t come all 
the way from Wynch-on-the-Wold for Sunday 
recitals, and it’s entirely owing to her that I’m 
playing. I should so like her to be there.” 

Ingred accepted the invitation with alacrity. 
She had grown very fond of Bess lately — so 
fond, indeed, that Verity’s nose was put consider- 
ably out of joint. Verity, though an amusing 
school comrade, was not a “ home ” friend. 
Apart from fun in their dormitory, she and Ingred 
had little in common, and had never arranged to 
spend a holiday together. She was a jolly 
enough girl, but so fond of “ ragging ” that it 
was impossible to do anything but joke with her. 
Bess, on the contrary, was a real confidante who 
could be trusted with secrets. The two friends 
spent an idyllic Saturday together. Mr. Hasel- 
ford motored over to Birkshaw to fetch his 
father, and took the girls with him in the car. 
Mr. Haselford the elder proved a delightful old 
gentleman, deeply interested in music, and much 
gratified that his grand-daughter was to play at 
the Abbey. 

“ It was a happy thought of yours, my dear ! ” 
he said to Ingred. “ Why, I’ve often attended 
those recitals, and never guessed little Bess would 


287 


The Abbey Recital 

be asked to take part in one ! I sang in Grove- 
bury Abbey choir when I was a boy, and I’ve al- 
ways had a tender spot in my heart for the old 
town.” 

“ And you’re not going to forget it, are you. 
Grandfather?” said Bess pointedly. 

“ Well, well, we shall see,” he evaded, stroking 
her brown hair. 

Even poor delicate Mrs. Haselford made a su- 
preme effort and went to church on Sunday eve- 
ning. It was a beautiful service, and the old 
Minster looked lovely with the late sunshine 
streaming through its gorgeous west window. 
Some of the congregation went away after the 
sermon and concluding hymn were over, but a 
large number stayed to hear the recital. Bess, 
horribly nervous, went with Ingred to the choir, 
where she had left her violin. There were to be 
two organ solos, and her piece was to separate 
them. She was thankful she had not to play first. 
She sat on one of the old carved Miserere seats, 
and listened as Dr. Linton’s subtle fingers touched 
the keys, and flooded the church with the rich 
tones of Bach’s Toccata in F Major. She wished 
it had been five times as long, so as to delay her 
own turn. But a solo cannot last for ever, and 
much too soon the last notes died away. There 
was a pause while the verger fetched a music 
stand and placed it close to the chancel steps. 


288 A Popular Schoolgirl 

Dr. Linton was looking in her direction, and 
sounding the A for her. With her usually rosy 
face almost pale, Bess walked to the organ, tuned 
her violin, then took her place at the music stand. 
It was seldom that so young a girl had played in 
the Abbey, and everybody looked sympathetically 
at the palpably frightened little figure. It was 
the feeling of standing there facing all eyes that 
unnerved poor Bess. For a second or two her 
hand trembled so greatly that she could scarcely 
hold her bow. Then by a sudden inspiration she 
looked over the heads of the congregation to the 
west window, where the sunset light was gleaming 
through figures of crimson and blue and gold. 
Down all the centuries music had played a part 
in the service of the Minster. She would not re- 
member that people were there to listen to her, 
but would let her violin give its praise to God 
alone. She did not need to look at her notes, for 
she knew the piece by heart, and with her eyes 
fixed on the west window she began the “ Pre- 
lude.” 

Once the first notes were started, her courage 
returned, and she brought out her tone with a firm 
bow. The splendid harmonies of the organ sup- 
ported her and she seemed spurred along in an 
impulse to do her very best. Ingred, listening in 
the choir, was sure her friend had never played so 
well, or put such depth of feeling into her music 


289 


The Abbey Recital 

before. It was over at last, and in the hush of 
the church, Bess stole back to her seat, while Dr. 
Linton plunged into the fantasies of a “ Tri- 
umphal March.” 

“I’m proud of you!” whispered Ingred, as 
they walked down the aisle together afterwards. 

“ Oh, don’t I I felt as if it wasn’t half good 
enough,” answered Bess, giving a nervous little 
shiver now that the ordeal was over. 

When Ingred returned to Wynch-on-the-Wold 
next Friday afternoon she found the family had 
some news for her. Old Mr. Haselford had been 
to Mr. Saxon’s office, and had confided to him a 
scheme that lay very near to his heart. He had 
prospered exceedingly in his business affairs at 
Birkshaw, and he was anxious to do something for 
his native town of Grovebury, where he had been 
born and had spent his boyhood. He asked Mr. 
Saxon to prepare designs for a combined museum 
and art gallery, which he proposed to build and 
present to the public. 

“ I can trust the architect of ‘ Rotherwood ’ to 
give us something in the best possible taste,” he 
had remarked. “ I want the place to be an object 
of beauty, not the blot on the landscape that such 
buildings often prove. Fortunately I have the 
offer of a splendid site, so the plans need not be 
hampered by lack of space. I think we shall be 
able to show that the twentieth century can pro- 


290 A Popular Schoolgirl 

duce work of merit on its own lines, without slav- 
ishly copying either the classical or the mediaeval 
style of architecture.” 

Old Mr. Haselford had even gone further. 

“ My son’s part of the business is now entirely 
at Grovebury,” he continued. “ And I feel I 
should like him to have a house of his own. I 
have bought five acres of land above the river at 
Trenton, on the hill, where there is a glorious view 
of the valley. I don’t ask you to copy ‘ Rother- 
wood,’ for I know no architect cares to repeat 
himself, but a place in the same style and with 
equal conveniences would suit us very well. My 
daughter-in-law could talk over the details. It 
would make a fresh interest for her. We are all 
tremendously keen about it.” 

The new schemes which occupied the minds of 
the Haselfords brought great rejoicings to the 
Bungalow. 

” Why, it will almost make Father’s fortune I ” 
triumphed Ingred, still in a state of delighted be- 
wilderment. 

“ It will certainly be an immense pull to him 
professionally to have the designing of an im- 
portant public building,” smiled Mother. “ And 
I think he will be able to plan a house to satisfy 
Mr. and Mrs. Haselford. It’s just the kind of 
work he likes.” 

“ Mother, when they leave Rotherwood, shall 


291 


The Abbey Recital 

we have to let it to any one else, or would it be 

possible ” Ingred hesitated, with the wish 

that for nearly a year she had put resolutely away 
from her trembling on her lips. 

“To go back there ourselves?” finished 
Mother. “ If Father’s affairs prosper, as they 
seem likely to do at present, I think we may safely 
say ‘ yes.’ It never rains but it pours, and just 
as his profession has suddenly taken a leap for- 
ward, his private investments have picked up. 
Colonial mines, that he thought utterly done for, 
have begun to work again, and pay dividends. 
Our prospects now are very different indeed from 
what they were a few months ago. Don’t look 
too excited, Ingred! Houses take a long time 
to build, nowadays, and it may be years before 
Mr. Haselford’s new place is finished, and we 
can get re-possession of Rotherwood.” 

“ I don’t care, so long as there’s hope of ever 
having it again I ” 

“ It’s our own home, and naturally we love it, 
but we must not forget what a debt of gratitude 
we owe to the Bungalow. We have been very 
happy here, and I think we have been thrown to- 
gether, and have learnt to know one another in a 
way we should never have done at Rotherwood. 
All the sacrifices we have made for each other 
have drawn us far closer as a family, and linked 
us up so that we ought never to be able to drift 


292 A Popular Schoolgirl 

apart now, which might have happened if we had 
all been able just to pursue our own line. We 
have learnt the value here of simple pleasures, 
weVe enjoyed the moors and the flowers and the 
birds and the stars and all the beautiful things 
that Nature can give us. The realization of them 
is worth far more than anything that money can 
buy, for it’s the ‘ joy that no man taketh from 
you.’ I have grown to love Wynch-on-the-Wold 
so dearly that I shall beg Father to keep on the 
Bungalow as a country cottage, and I shall run 
out here for holidays when I feel Rotherwood is 
too much for me, and I want to be alone for a 
while with Nature.” 

” I expect we’ll all want to do just the same ! ” 
said Quenrede, looking from the gay flower-beds, 
which her own hands had planted, over the hedge 
to where the brown moors stretched away into 
the dim gray of the distance. “ I thought it was 
going to be hateful when I came here, but, Muv- 
vie, I think it’s been the happiest year of my life ! 
The country may be quiet, but it has its compen- 
sation. We’ll walk to the Whistling Stones 
again, Ingred, as soon as you break up ! ” 

“ And that will be exactly a week next Fri- 
day ! ” rejoiced Ingred. 

The school was busy with all the usual activities 
that seem to happen at the end of the summer 
term. There was a successful cricket match with 


293 


The Abbey Recital 

the Girls^ High School from Birkshaw, a tennis 
tournament where Nora and Susia took part after 
all, and won laurels for the College, a Nature 
Notebook Competition in which Linda, to every 
one’s amazement, bore off the first prize against 
all other schools in the town. 

Then there was the annual function, when 
parents were invited to see a display of Swedish 
Drill, listen to three-part songs given by the sing- 
ing class, admire the drawings and clay models 
exhibited in the studio, and watch a French play 
acted by the Sixth. It was at the close of this 
performance that (when friends had taken their 
departure, and Dr. Linton, who had conducted the 
singing class, had closed the grand piano and had 
hurried across to the Abbey to keep an appoint- 
ment with an organ pupil) a certain piece of news 
leaked out, and began to circulate round the 
school. Verity had the proud importance of 
carrying it into the hostel. 

“ Do you know,” she announced, “ that Miss 
Strong is engaged to Dr. Linton, and they’re to be 
married in the holidays? ” 

Nora, who was changing a crepe de chine dress 
for a serviceable tennis costume, collapsed on to 
her bed. 

“Hold me up! ” she murmured dramatically. 
“ Why, I didn’t know he was a widower I ” 

“ Of course he is,” endorsed Ingred, “ and a 


294 A Popular Schoolgirl 

most uncomfortable one, I should say. I went 
to his house once for a music lesson, and it looked 
in a fearful muddle. Good old Bantam! We 
must give her congrats! She’ll soon get things 
into order there ! I believe she adores little 
Kenneth. I’ve often seen her taking him about 
the town. She shall have my blessing, by all 
means ! ” 

“ We might give her something more substan- 
tial than congrats and blessings ! ” suggested 
Verity. “ I vote we get up a subscription in the 
form for a decent wedding present ! ” 

“Oh yes! Think of Sarkie as Mrs. Linton! 
They’ll be the oddest couple ! I wonder if she’ll 
get tired of perpetual music, and if he’ll rage 
round his own drawing-room and ruffle his hair 
when he feels annoyed, like he does with his 
pupils ! ’’ 

“ Perhaps she’ll break him off bad habits ! I 
could trust her to hold her own.’’ 

“ Oh, she’ll be the gray mare, don’t you fear ! 
But honestly I’m glad! She has her points, and 
I hope she’ll be happy.’’ 

“ I wonder who’ll have her form next term? ’’ 

“ That doesn’t concern us, for we shall prob- 
ably be in the Sixth.’’ 

“ Help ! So we shall ! I can’t bring my mind 
to it yet. It gives me spasms ! ’’ 

“ Quite a blossomy prospect, though ! ’’ 


The Abbey Recital 295 

On the afternoon before breaking-up day, the 
School Parliament met for the last time. Lis- 
peth, rather sad, and inclined to be sentimental, 
reviewed from The Chair the events of the past 
year. 

“ It has been pioneer work,” she said. “ I 
dare say we might have done it better, but at least 
weVe tried. We laid ourselves out to set a 
standard for the tone of the school, and I think 
it has kept up fairly well on the whole. The 
Rainbow League seems thoroughly established, 
and likely to go on. May I read you some of 
the things it has done during the year? We 
made four pounds for the ‘ War-Orphans Fund,’ 
and sent ninety-seven home-made toys to poor 
children’s treats. The Posy Union gave nine pots 
of crocuses and fifty-six bunches of flowers to 
cripples and invalids; the penny-a-week subscrip- 
tions have kept two little girls all the summer at 
the children’s camp, and the Needlework Guild 
has made thirty-seven garments. It doesn’t 
sound much when you put it all in hard black and 
white like that! I hate reports and statistics of 
societies, they always sound to me somehow so 
Pharisaical, as if we were saying: ‘Look how 
good we are!’ You know I don’t mean that. 
What I do mean, though, is that we’ve tried not 
to run everything entirely for ourselves. A rain- 
bow shines when the world is clearing up, and per- 


296 A Popular Schoolgirl 

haps our little efforts, small as they are, show that 
things are moving in the right direction. Next 
term all of us girls in the Sixth will have left, and 
a new set will take the lead. I can’t say yet who 
will be Head of the school, but I don’t fancy 
there’s very much doubt about it. I hope who- 
ever has the reins will keep up what we have 
worked so hard for this year.” 

Lispeth was looking straight at Ingred as she 
spoke; her meaning was unmistakable. Ingred 
blushed a faint rosy pink. It had only just 
dawned upon her that next term would possibly 
bring her the greatest honor that the College had 
to confer. 

“ Whoever is chosen for head-girl,” she stam- 
mered bashfully, “ I’m sure will try her very best 
to work for the good of the school. She couldn’t 
do more than you’ve done — probably she won’t 
do half so well — but she’ll make an enormous 
effort to — shall we say — just ‘ carry on ’ I ” 


THE END 






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